Champion Storyteller
by DKAllayna
Summary: While in hiding after the war in Kirkwall, Rathina Hawke and her friends tell the true story of the events in Kirkwall through bits and pieces. Series of shorts spanning before and during DAII. F!Hawke/Fenris and hints at other, minor pairings. Ch. 23 now up: In which we learn about Hawke's problems when navigating the Wounded Coast.
1. Prologue: An Opening Letter

_**A/N:**_

_**Hello, and welcome to my story! Well, stories, I guess. This is a collection of short stories based on the world of Dragon Age II, mostly revolving around Rathina Hawke and her adventures. While these stories are written in the third-person point of view, Hawke and her friends have graced us by giving us their versions of the stories. They're written in no particular order, and the chapter titles make it pretty obvious what the stories are about, so you can pick and choose which ones to read. Anyhow, thanks for stopping by, and reviews are highly appreciated!**_

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><p><em>Dear Reader,<em>

_Well, hello. I guess I'm not exactly sure what to say. I'm not famous for writing books, you know, so I suppose I'll just be blunt._

_My name is Rathina Hawke. I'm sure you know who I am- thanks to Varric, everybody does. Well, him and that damn Arishok. Not to mention the mages and... well, you get the picture. If you don't know who I am, then you must have been living under a rock. Go to your local inn and ask anybody about the Champion of Kirkwall; hell, talk to Varric, if you want the tale grossly exaggerated. I'm not going into the long-winded explanation of my entire life._

_Anyone who's reading this to find out my whereabouts might as well stop reading now. I'm writing this while in hiding, since someone or other is definitely looking for me, namely the Divine. Few people actually know where I am, and most of them are here with me. Nobody will see me until I want to be seen- don't forget, I am a rogue and thus, really good at hiding._

_Well, I didn't start writing in this thing just to threaten my readers, so let's get on with the real introduction, shall we?_

_I recently received this lovely journal that you are currently holding in your hands as a gift from Fenris (if you don't know who he is, you'll figure it out eventually). In fact, he gave it to me just before we were forced to leave Kirkwall. I was unsure what I would do with this journal- diaries are for whimps- but then I got an idea from Varric, when I was sitting in the Hanged Man listening to him spread rumors. It made me think; I realized that half the things you hear about me are probably wrong. I'm not flattering myself by saying that I am leaving behind a powerful legacy. Words and stories are powerful things; I want the ones about me to be honest._

_Together with a couple of my friends, I am compiling memories in the form of stories based on my life as Champion. Few of these stories have ever been heard in full by anyone else before, for varying reasons. I hope this journal falls into the right hands, so somebody can learn the whole story and spread the truth. You won't, however, learn about our adventures that took place after the Mage-Templar War. I'm not an idiot, after all._

_Maybe I'll leave that for a different story, if this all blows over._

_Anyway, Fenris and Bethany and a few of my other friends have been helping me with this project- they've been amazingly agreeable with all of it, so I'll have to remember to thank them later. We've taken turns writing these stories, because even Varric could never capture all our different perspectives (we don't pretend to tell stories as well as he does, but hopefully we'll give him a run for his money). And, of course, he barely knew anything about my life before Kirkwall, so Bethany and I have written in a few childhood stories in here as well. Several- in fact, most- of these stories have been very painful to relive, but with the help of my friends I think I'll be able to finish them all. I or someone else will give you a short introduction before each story, so you know what's going on. At least this story-writing thing gives me something to do, as hiding out is rather boring..._

_Maker's ass, this introduction stuff is hard, but I can blame it on Bethany; she insisted I write one. So, to give this short letter a sappy conclusion: I hope you enjoy these stories and share in our memories, good and bad._

_~Rathina Hawke, 9:38 Dragon_


	2. The Heart's Pain

_This story was... difficult to write. It was a very emotional time for me, and I don't think I could have kept going if not for my friends (read: Fenris). He actually helped me write some of this, Maker bless him. After this, all my friends viewed me slightly differently; it was the first time they ever truly saw me break down, to my chagrin._

_Anyway, this is the true story of what happened directly after my mother died._

_-Hawke_

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><p><strong>The Heart's Pain<strong>

Hawke slumped on the ground, dazed. She stared at her mother's body, her mind in turmoil. _This can't have happened... This is a dream... No way... I can't..._ Her thoughts were disjointed, oddly muffled. A hand touched her shoulder gently, and she flinched and glanced up. Her gaze was fuzzy and blurry; she touched her face in surprise to feel tears racing down her cheeks. She bitterly brushed them out of her eyes and found herself staring into Aveline's surprisingly compassionate emerald green eyes. The guard captain was expertly concealing her own shock and grief, but Hawke was a talented rogue, and she could see right through her friend's brave facade, even in this state.

"Hawke?" the guard captain asked softly. "Quentin is dead. What do you want us to do now?"

"I..." Hawke's gaze lowered to her mother's caring face, fixed into place forever. She reached out and gently slid her eyelids shut, covering her glassy eyes. She touched Leandra's wasted cheek, her own lips twisting into a bitter scowl upon seeing the stitching on her neck where the bastard blood mage had patched her together. She slowly gathered her mother's body into her arms and started to rise, but stumbled. Her calf throbbed with dull pain from an injury she hadn't been aware of till now. "...help..." she said weakly. Instantly Fenris was at her side, easily lifting the body into his arms. He lifted his gaze to meet Hawke's, and a dull throb ached in her shattered heart when she saw his concerned, tender expression. Aveline drew Hawke to her feet, and she stood unsteadily for a moment while she tried to force her thoughts back in order.

"We need to bury her," she decided, her voice hoarse. Aveline nodded; she turned and led the way out of the Foundry. Hawke limped along beside Fenris, her expression dazed and a little unfocused, her gaze darting down to her mother's face every so often. Merrill and Varric followed, both quiet for once.

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><p>Aveline took them to an isolated area just outside of Kirkwall. She'd requisitioned shovels and spades from her guards as they left the city. Hawke held one now, staring blankly at the ground. They were on a small hill near the coast; in the distance, she could hear the waves brushing against the shore. She focused on them now, as if desperate to keep a grip on her sanity.<p>

"Hawke?" Varric prompted gently. She shook her head, snapping back to focus, and started digging. Fenris laid the body on the ground and moved forward to help her. The rhythmic digging motion calmed her, along with Fenris's arm working next to hers, her light armor brushing against his.

An hour later, Hawke stepped back to admire their crude handiwork. She said nothing of it, though. Her gaze turned up to the sky, her mouth twisted sourly. There was an acrid, depressing taste in her mouth.

"Fitting," she commented dully, eyeing the setting sun. "It looks like blood." The sky seemed to be smeared with scarlet blood as the sun cast its dying rays. It illuminated the fresh tears on her cheeks, as if she was crying blood.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," Merrill murmured, touching Hawke's arm comfortingly. "Your mother was a good woman." Even through her blurry gaze, Hawke could see the slender elf's alarmed, almost scared expression. To them, Hawke was a solid rock, not completely unemotional but at least able to laugh everything off- except for this. They had never seen her cry before. It gave her a bit of a bitter, exposed feeling.

"Thank you, Merrill," Hawke answered distractedly, uncomfortably tearing her gaze away from the mage. The tears threaded down her face even more thickly as she bent down and gently placed her mother's body into the grave, ignoring her throbbing leg. She brushed the tears away again, piling the dirt back into the hole on top of the corpse. She paused, the last scoop of dirt in her shovel, gazing at her mother's face for the last time. And finally she dumped the dirt over the body. The shovel fell from her hands.

"Good-bye, Mother," she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of the grave. She sat there numbly for a moment before her hands flew up to cover her face; she curled in on herself, her shoulders trembling with silent sobs. The others whispered their own goodbyes and condolences and, uncomfortable with Hawke's loss of composure, left to allow her some time alone.

Except for Fenris. Naturally.

She felt the air stirring as Fenris knelt beside her and lowered his head. She recognized his deep voice whispering quietly under his breath, the words a mixture of the Tevinter and Qunari languages. A few moments later, his low murmur died away and they crouched next to each other in silence. She scowled into her hands with annoyance, but the feeling quickly died away to be replaced by a fresh wave of grief. They stayed that way for several hours, until the moon was at its zenith and clouds were creeping across the horizon to cover it. The stars were bright, seeming to mock her as she finally lifted her head; her eyes were dry now, the tear tracks glittering on her cheeks. Beside her, Fenris rose gracefully to his feet.

"Come on," he murmured to her, drawing her to her feet. She was numbly aware of him at her side as he guided her back to the city, his arm wrapped hesitantly around her shoulders. She shuffled along quietly, still limping and leaning into him for support. Finally the clouds broke, and rain sprinkled around them lightly. She started to shiver. Fenris pulled her closer to him, his reluctance gone as he fervently tried to keep her warm. He led her into her mansion, ignoring Bodahn's initial gasp of surprise when he walked in leading Hawke.

"Where's Leandra?" the dwarf wanted to know. Orana glanced over curiously. Hawke shook her head and halted, biting her lip as the pain flickered across her face again.

"Oh, no," Orana gasped, her eyes wide and filling with tears. "Mistress, I'm so sorry..."

"She should get to bed," Fenris said firmly. "She needs to sleep."

"Yes, messere," Bodahn answered, his gaze dropping with grief. Hawke listened to all this with an air of detachment. She was aware they were talking about her, but she just didn't really care anymore; her mind kept flitting back to her mother, and the body in the grave. Somehow, they didnt seem to be the same person. That bastard Quentin, for having the nerve to kidnap her mother and patch her together with parts of other women's bodies... She started to tremble with rage. Fenris said something else to Bodahn, and the dwarf hesitated before nodding reluctantly. She couldn't hear what was said over the sudden pounding in her ears.

Fenris said something to her, and when she didn't respond, he nudged her gently and led her up to her room. She dropped on the small stool in front of the flickering fireplace, glowering at it before turning back to the lanky elf, who stood there watching her with sad eyes.

"We should have gotten there faster," she growled bitterly. He didn't answer. "If only Aveline hadn't made us wait while she got her guards... or if that urchin hadn't stalled until I bribed him... or if Gamlen hadn't taken so long to get to me..."

"Hawke."

"It's the damn _mages!"_ she snapped, a wall of fiery anger building up inside her. Her icy eyes flashed, a scowl darkening her features. "Why do they have to be so... so stupid and weak! It's like everything in Kirkwall is conspiring against me, and they're trying to break me, Fenris, but they can't, because now I don't have anything left to lose. Carver was killed by the darkspawn, and they've already taken Bethany from me... and then _you_ left me, but at least you're still here, because frankly, I couldn't bear it if you left." She jumped to her feet, cracking her knuckles. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Fenris flinch very slightly in surprise. Her gaze was fixed on something he couldn't see, and it burned with bottomless depths of passion, fury, and grief. Her voice cracked. "Why did it have to be _my _mother?" She turned to punch the wall; in the blink of an eye, he was at her side. Her hand shot out; he caught her wrist and whirled her around to face him. She struggled for a moment before finally collapsing with a moan. She would have fallen on the floor if Fenris wasn't holding her so tight. "It's not fair!" she groaned into his chest. He held her close while she sobbed, looking heartbreakingly fragile in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," he murmured passionately into her ear, stroking her hair comfortingly. He whispered a few more soothing words in Tevinter, which she didn't understand but she still took comfort in them. A moment later, she pulled away. Her cheeks burned in shame and embarrassment. The sarcastic gleam in her eyes was gone, replaced by dull weariness and grief. She looked ages older than she had this morning.

"I... Fenris... thanks." She sighed, running a hand through her hair, which had long since fallen out of her usual bun to tumble over her shoulders. He nodded once, waiting patiently for her to collect her thoughts. "Can you..." she sighed again, dropping her head into her hands. "Tell the others to take a break for a while, please. I..." She swallowed. "I need a few days."

"Don't worry, Hawke," he said impulsively, his gaze compassionate. "The others will understand." He paused a moment, his face twisting into a scowl before his next words. "I can ask the mage for some poultices to heal your leg, if you want." She glanced down at her injured leg, her eyes widening in momentary surprise. Obviously she'd forgotten about it.

"That would be appreciated," she answered gratefully. She sat down on her bed and started tugging at her boots, and after a swift moment of hesitation, he knelt by her feet to help her remove her armor. She blinked at him in silent thanks and his eyes twinkled sadly back at her. When her shoes and the top layer of her armor were off, she yanked her legs up onto the bed and leaned back against her headboard.

She gazed into the fire again, the flames reflecting in her ice blue eyes. Fenris turned to leave, but her soft voice stopped him. "Fenris... is it my fault?" Her throat burned as she uttered the simple question, her fists clenching. He didn't answer right away, and she turned, her eyes wide, to make sure he hadn't left. He was still standing there, a slight frown on his face as he considered the answer.

"I could say no, but would that help?" he told her finally. "You are looking for forgiveness, but I'm not the one who can give it to you." She nodded, her shoulders slumping in disappointment, but her eyes flashing in understanding. She turned back to the fire, losing herself in the depths of the flames. When she turned again, Fenris was gone.

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><p>Noon the following day found Hawke sitting in the armchair in her office, in front of the fireplace down there. She'd chosen this room over her room since the armchair was more comfortable, although in hindsight she should have stayed in her room; Bodahn couldn't bug her while she was up there.<p>

"Please, mistress, you should eat!" he begged for the umpteenth time.

"I'm not hungry."

"But you haven't eaten since this time yesterday!"

"I'm not _hungry,_ Bodahn," Hawke snarled, and she was about to add something else that she would probably regret later when they heard a knock on the door. She relaxed into her chair and heard Orana greeting someone at the door. She wondered vaguely who it was. Maybe Anders, come to heal her leg. She doubted it, though. Fenris would make sure the mage stayed well enough away from her mansion. And it definitely wasn't the lanky elf; the knock was too aggressive...

"Rathina." Gamlen's voice roused her from her temporary reverie. She flinched and her gaze shot up to meet her tired uncle's. He stood in the doorway, watching her warily.

"Uncle," she greeted him with a sigh, collapsing back into her chair. "You heard."

"The broody elf told me. He seemed genuinely apologetic. What company you keep..." Hawke resisted rolling her eyes, aware that this was her uncle's way of dealing with grief. He stepped into the room and started pacing, his voice now trembling with rage. "Who did this to her? We need to find him, and..."

"It was a blood mage named Quentin," Hawke answered listlessly. Gamlen's footsteps paused; she imagined his jaw dropping in shock. She was too mournful to turn to look at him; she didn't want to see the horror and grief in his eyes. She wasn't sure she could suppress another flood of tears. "We killed him already."

"Oh." His voice fell. "Why did he do such a terrible thing?"

"He was a very terrible man, Uncle," Hawke responded deliberately, deciding against telling him the whole truth. She still had difficulty believing it herself. "Does it matter why anymore? He's dead."

"I guess you're right." Gamlen sighed. "I'll break the news to Bethany, to take a bit of the stress off your shoulders. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Uncle."

"If you ever need to talk... you know where to find me. I'll see you around, I guess," he said, his voice a little uncomfortable. He left. Hawke sighed with relief, drawing her legs up underneath her, glad to be alone again.

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><p>It was evening again. The house was quiet as a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse, and it felt almost as tense. Hawke had barely moved an inch, and Bodahn had finally stopped bothering her- probably hoping she'd come to him when she got hungry. There was another gentle knock at the door, and Hawke's heart lifted; she recognized that knock. She jumped to her feet and stumbled, letting out a soft cry of pain when she put too much weight on her hurt leg. Collapsing back into her chair, she stretched her leg out and eyed it idly while she listened at the front door.<p>

"Ah, master Fenris, come in," Bodahn's voice drifted to her. She heard the dwarf whisper something else and scowled, picking at her robes. She froze a moment later when Fenris's low chuckle echoed through the house, and then... silence. Hawke let out a gusty sigh, leaning back in her chair and gazing into the fire again.

"Bodahn tells me you haven't eaten since I brought you back." She started and scowled, her eyes smoldering into the fire, refusing to look up at him. Damn, she'd forgotten just how quiet he could be sometimes. "Sorry, did I startle you?" he added, his tone slightly amused, sliding into the armchair across from her. She finally flicked her gaze up to meet his. He gazed steadily back at her with his intent expression that always made her melt a little inside.

"No," she insisted, scrambling to recover her thoughts as her pride assaulted her. Then, with another sigh, she ran her hand through her lank black hair and leaned back, the momentary fire in her gaze gone. "Alright, maybe a little. But just a little!" She looked back at him for another moment before lowering her eyes to the fire again. "Gamlen came by earlier."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He... well, you could tell how upset he was. He said he'd tell Bethany..." Hawke's shoulders slumped. She just couldn't do anything right, could she? First Carver was killed by the ogre, then Bethany was taken by the templars, and then Fenris... and her mother... Maybe she didn't deserve to have a family. Maybe she was doomed to lose everyone she loved. The thought brought tears to her eyes again, and she looked down at her lap, biting her lip. At least she had Fang. The Mabari was in the other room, near the fireplace that Mother was always dusting...

"I can't imagine what it must be like to lose your family," he said quietly, interrupting her thoughts. "Anything I could say would be insufficient... I'm sorry." There was a lump in her throat, and she swallowed hard, unable to speak.

"Thanks, Fenris," she choked out after a pause. She glanced up at him, giving him a sad, grateful smile, nothing like the usual quirky, bitter-free half-smile she usually wore. "I... I appreciate you being here for me."

"It's the least I could do," he answered simply. They sat in silence for several minutes. She burned with questions, but she wrestled them down; they were better left for later. She wasn't going to scare the elf away now, when she needed his comfort most. The lanky elf himself was gazing reflectively into the fire, his thoughts hidden from even her keen gaze that could read everybody else like a book.

"Your leg will get infected if you don't have something done about it soon," Fenris remarked after a while, breaking their little vigil. His eyes darkened. "I thought the mage was going to come by."

"He's probably been busy," Hawke answered diplomatically, then rolled her eyes. "Probably dealing with one of Isabela's 'rashes' again." Fenris chuckled softly. Warm emotions flooded her at the musical sound of his deep laughter, and her cheeks tingled. It healed her better than any healing magic ever could. She shook her head at her digressing thoughts and forced herself back to the present. "I have a few potions and healing kits in my bag," she recalled, her gaze falling on the ragged bag that rested forlornly beside the fireplace. Fenris immediately leaped up and moved over to it, rummaging through it. Hawke marveled inwardly at how silent and fluid his steps were, as she always did. Even Merrill's footsteps were somewhat audible. She sighed aloud as Fenris straightened, holding a small kit. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I was just thinking," she answered, shaking her head, her cheeks darkening again. His mouth quirked in a small smirk as he approached her with the bandages. She made as if to grab them, but he swiftly yanked them out of her reach.

"What-" Hawke started to object, but Fenris dropped down beside her and proceeded to clean her wound. "I- thanks," she sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes to ignore the pain, too exhausted to resist. She told herself fiercely that she only imagined his fingers caressing her leg, brushing softly against her skin... _Dammit Rath, get over yourself. _Abruptly his touch disappeared from her skin, and her eyes fluttered open. She inhaled sharply, surprised to see his face just inches away from hers. Their eyes met and his expression softened, saddened by... something. She could only imagine the look in her own eyes at that moment; surprised probably, caring, loving, thoughtful, remorseful... she pictured the deep pool of grief masked by these other emotions that Fenris could no doubt see through. They both jumped when Fang barked excitedly from the other room, and Fenris moved away, looking a little ashamed. She cursed inwardly, wondering what he would have done if they hadn't been distracted. Then again, maybe it was better that she didn't know. She dropped her eyes, not wanting to see his expression.

"Thanks, Fenris," Hawke said sincerely, eying her bandaged calf.

"No problem." His tone was unreadable.

"D'you want to stay for dinner?" Hawke offered, only now realizing that she was famished. She lifted her eyes and saw his face lightening with relief. To anyone else, the change in his gaze was barely perceptible; to her, it glowed like a beacon.

"Sure," he agreed with the smallest hint of a smile- again, barely visible. She smiled back, but it was a shadow of her former radiant smile. It didn't quite reach her eyes, and it looked almost painful.

Hawke called to Bodahn and he looked almost ready to cheer when she asked him to make dinner. He sighed in relief and led them to the dining room.

"Orana went ahead and cooked dinner," he explained to their quizzical expressions.

"Ah. Tell her thank you, please." Hawke sighed as she fell into her usual chair, resting her elbow on the table and dropping her head into her hand. Bodahn left the room. Fenris sat down beside her silently. A moment later, the dwarf returned and placed food on the table for them; less than usual, Hawke noted tiredly. Usually Orana cooked whole plates of food just for her and her mother- even she was suffering from Leandra's death, it seemed. Bodahn set two glasses of wine and a bottle down on the table, and Hawke gratefully swallowed hers down. Fenris sipped his, watching Hawke over the edge of his glass, aware that he ought to keep himself sober if only for her sake.

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><p>Fenris guided a very drunken Hawke back to her room several hours later. In retrospect, he probably should have stopped her after her third or fourth glass, but he empathized with her wanting to forget everything. For a little while, at least. She deserved the relief.<p>

He nudged her toward her bed and she obediently staggered over to it, somehow managing not to fall over. She dropped down on the blankets and sat there for a moment, gazing at the ground. She shook her head and seemed to refocus, lifting her eyes to meet Fenris's own calm, surprisingly gentle gaze.

"Thanks," she said rather lamely, slurring a bit on even this simple word. He nodded and a slight smile touched his features.

"Good night." He turned to leave.

"H...hey, Fenris." He paused, glancing back at her, his eyebrows lifting in a wordless question. She shifted uneasily, her cheeks reddening a bit before she blurted, "This doesn't change anything... does it." Her words were more of a statement than a question. He turned away again, leaning against the door frame and lowering his eyes so she couldn't see his expression.

"I'm sorry, Hawke."

"Okay." He heard the unsurprised disappointment in her voice. He could almost hear the muddled wheels turning in her head as she sorted through her next words. "Don't worry, Fenris... I-I understand..." He glanced up just in time to see the undisguised pain and hurt flash across her features for the briefest moment before she controlled her expression again. He wanted to run to her, to hug her and comfort her and never let go...

"I'm sorry," he repeated in a whisper, his gaze dropping again. He turned and fled, his heart ripping anew, torn between wanting to protect her and wanting to avoid the haunting look in her eyes... He thought he heard a choked sob follow him out the door.

It was several days before he or anybody else saw her again.


	3. The Redheaded Sister

_**A/N: **_

_**Did anyone else find it ironic that both Hawke and Leliana were in Lothering, but neither spoke about the other? I think Bethany mentioned her in passing once, but other than that there was really nothing to tie them to each other. And *spoiler* there was no recognition between the two of them when she visited Kirkwall in Sebastian's companion quest in Act 3. Weird, especially because it seems the two would instantly click as friends. So, here's a bit of backstory between the pair that you never knew ;p. Hope you enjoy, and please review! ;-D**_

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><p><em>A lot of people assume that I didn't know a certain redheaded Orlesian before I met her with Sebastian. It's kind of amusing that no one else knew about her, but in hindsight it should have been really obvious, considering both of us were in Lothering. I didn't really talk about her much, since everything had changed so fast. I guess I missed her, too. Anyway, this story is about the first time I met our favorite bard and one of my best friends, Leliana.<em>

_-Hawke_

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><p><strong>The Redheaded Sister<strong>

Rathina darted silently through the trees. At her side bounded her trusty Mabari, Fang. Rathina paused and Fang drew up obediently beside her, sniffing the air before lowering his snout and snuffling at the ground. The young woman chuckled, smiling fondly at her dog before peering around them keenly. She held a handmade bow; it was very rough and worn, but it served it's purpose: hunting for her family. The arrows in the small sheath on her back matched the ragged bow. She pulled one out and fitted it to the bow, then eyed it thoughtfully.

"I should try hunting with my daggers sometime," she mused aloud, as much to break the almost stifling silence as anything. Fang whined in agreement, and she smirked again. Even the wardog could tell that she was better at wielding the knives- daggers, she corrected herself, wondering what was the difference anyway. Still pondering the idea of hunting with her daggers- maybe she could throw them at a deer or something- she turned to scan the surrounding forest. And froze. A very out of place, red-orange color caught her experienced eye, and Fang growled under his breath, staring at the bush where the color had originated. A flash of silver followed it but both were almost instantly gone. Rathina instinctively assumed a defensive position, sneaking forward to investigate the bush warily. She set the bow down and instead drew her daggers, sliding forward to prod the bush and then exchange a confused glance with Fang. She waited a moment before continuing on hesitantly, re-sheathing her daggers and picking up the bow again. She wished briefly that she'd brought Carver or Bethany with them.

A breeze picked up soon, blowing right at them and ruffling her shiny black hair. She glanced hopefully at the Mabari, whose tail suddenly started to wag and she knew that they'd found dinner. He darted forward and she raced quietly after him. Fang glanced back at her eagerly as he slowed at the edge of a clearing, his stubby tail flying. She crept forward, giving him an affectionate if absentminded pat. She peered around a tree, ducking a little to see through the leaves. And, sure enough, there stood a small herd of deer, drinking from a creek that ran through the clearing. She chose her target- a female that stood a little off to the side, easy enough.

Rathina raised the bow, inching forward to get a clear shot. She focused only on the doe, the rest of her surroundings melting away. She carefully aimed the bow, released, and... missed. The arrow buried itself in a tree near the doe.

"Ah, _shit!_" Hawke's shout echoed through the air as the deer all turned to bound away. She threw the bow on the ground in one of her rare displays of temper and darted into the clearing, drawing her dagger. The doe was leaping over the stream, the rest of the herd just ahead of her. Hawke drew her arm back and hurled the dagger forward. It revolved once before slamming into the meaty part of the doe's left hind leg, getting stuck in her muscle but effectively slowing her down. Hawke ground out another swear under her breath and took a step forward.

All at once, the wind shifted again and Fang let out a ferocious growl, his hackles rising. A _twang _reached Rathina's ears, and, thinking of thieves or raiders, she dropped to the ground, expecting an arrow to fly over her head. To her surprise, though, an arrow, streaking from somewhere in the trees across the clearing, hit the doe and she fell. Rathina instantly leaped to her feet and ducked into the shadows, creeping slowly toward the deer's corpse.

"Who's there?" she snapped, now keenly regretting throwing her dagger at the stupid deer. She saw the same flash of red from before, cloaked in the trees directly across from her. This time, though, it didn't disappear. _Oh, crap, was I followed?_

Fang bounded over to the bushes, growling, his previously cheerful countenance replaced by the frightening war dog he could be. A moment later, he stepped out of the underbrush, followed by a proud young woman who definitely looked like she could hold her own in a fight. Rathina eyed her warily, but the stranger's bow was unstrung. There was something a little... off about her, though. She held herself up with pride, but it was more defensive than anything. _This girl has lost a lot._

"Who are you?" Rathina asked, holding her single dagger tightly.

"My name is Leliana." The girl had a lilting Orlesian accent, which naturally made Rathina more suspicious. Her hair was a shocking fiery red, cut short around her chin, similar to Rathina's own hairstyle. She wore a leather tunic that looked as if it had been expensive once, but now it was scratched and worn. Her eyes were a pale, sky blue, unlike Rathina's electric blue gaze, which was narrowing in suspicion.

"Were you following me?"

"I... yes." The Orlesian shifted. "I was hoping you would lead me to the town nearby- Lothering, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Lothering is my home." Rathina scrutinized the girl, curiosity warring with suspicion. "You're not from Ferelden, are you? Why do you want to go to Lothering?"

Leliana hesitated. "Personal reasons," she answered after a moment. "I'm seeking out the Chantry." _She doesn't seem like much of a Sister to me,_ Rathina thought, furrowing her brow as she scratched Fang's ear.

"Alright," she allowed after a moment. "I'll take you to Lothering, if I can have the deer." She gestured to the prone form of the doe.

"Sure," Leliana agreed, amusement lighting her gaze. "Sorry for stealing your kill, but I didn't want the poor doe to suffer."

"Me neither," Rathina grimaced. Deciding the girl wasn't dangerous (or, if she was, that Fang would protect her back), she slid her bow back into its tube slung around her back and strode over to the deer. She pulled the dagger out of its thigh and wiped the blade in the grass before returning both of her daggers to their sheaths. She watched the Orlesian out of the corner of her eye as she pulled out a coil of rope and started to tie up the doe for Fang to carry back. The war dog was surprisingly strong, which came in handy for things like this.

"You never told me your name," Leliana said after a moment.

"Rathina Hawke."

"Hawke," Leliana answered thoughtfully. "A strong name." Fang sniffed at her curiously, and she knelt down to stroke the Mabari. Rathina whistled, and the eager war dog ditched his new companion and bounded over to her. She tied the doe onto his back and he bounced happily in place, excited to be off. Rathina rolled her eyes and released the Mabari; he bounded ahead of them, back towards Lothering. She followed at a slower pace, Leliana to the left and slightly behind her.

"You're good with the bow," Rathina observed as they walked. Leliana shrugged.

"You learn to keep on your toes as a minstrel," she answered rather vaguely. Rathina sighed, accepting that she probably wouldn't learn any more about the girl with this line of questioning. She changed tack.

"How long have you been traveling in this direction for?"

"A while," Leliana replied, thinking. "I came here from Denerim. I think it was early summer when I left." Her eyes swept the distinctly autumn trees.

"That's a long time if you took the road," Rathina pointed out, her voice a little accusatory.

"We avoided the road, for a while," Leliana said, still vague. This was really starting to annoy Rathina. She skipped to a different question, hoping to catch the Orlesian off guard.

"Why do you want to go to the Chantry?" she asked.

"You ask a lot of questions," Leliana commented, but her eyes glowed with amusement. "Is it fair that you ask me to tell you about my life, but you never explain yours?"

"You haven't asked me anything," Rathina mumbled, a little abashed. Crap.

"Tell me about yourself. How long have you been living in Lothering for?"

"As far back as I can remember," Rathina answered automatically. Leliana smiled encouragingly, and Hawke swore under her breath when she realized that she had been successfully diverted from her questions. "I think I was very young when we came here," she elaborated reluctantly. "My parents aren't from this place. My mother is from Kirkwall."

"What about your father?"

"That's going too far!" Rathina snapped, her eyes glowing with anger that masked her fear. If this girl found out about her father and Bethany, and became a Sister and told somebody...

"I'm sorry," the Orlesian replied instantly, her expression sobering.

"We're almost there," Rathina answered curtly, but her eyes had softened a little.

"What's Lothering like?" Leliana asked, choosing a safer path for both of them. Rathina relaxed a little as she started to explain emphatically about the small town, how they were mostly poor but very close to each other and their prominent Chantry, and about the little children who always played in the streets after a day of helping their parents out on the fields...

"Sounds like a lovely place," Leliana commented when Rathina ran out of breath.

"Well, as long as you can fight off the bandits." Rathina sighed.

"Do you get many bandits?" Leliana asked curiously. Rathina laughed and rolled her eyes.

"We're right in the middle of the _Imperial Highway,_" she snorted. "And we're a small town with few guards and too many templars. Of course we do! They attack the farms often."

"Oh." The Orlesian fell silent.

"So you were a minstrel?" Rathina asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes. I used to travel around the courts in Orlais to sing and tell stories," Leliana answered, a little wistfully.

"Stories, huh? That will definitely warm you up to the Revered Mother very quickly." Fang barked, as if in agreement. Rathina chuckled and reached down to ruffle his ears. "We adore stories down here in our modest town of Lothering."

"Do you?" Leliana looked pleased. "Once I get settled in, be sure to stop by the Chantry and I'll tell you a few."

"Excellent. We need a few new stories around here. Ah, and there it is- my beautiful city." Rathina smirked, her last words a little sarcastic. Fang bounded ahead of them, bolting straight for the house where Mother would take the deer and cook it for dinner. Rathina paused just before they stepped out of the trees and gave Leliana a sideways glance. The redheaded Orlesian looked curious and slightly nervous. "Shall I take you straight to the Chantry?" Rathina asked softly.

"Yes, please. I'd like to speak to your Revered Mother before anything else." Leliana hesitated. "Thanks for bringing me here, Rathina."

"Well, it's the least I could do for the deer you killed for me."

"It's good to know I'll have a friend here."

"Ah, don't make a big deal, everybody here's really nice. Mostly, anyway." But Rathina looked pleased, and she grinned at Leliana. "By the way, do you think you can teach me how to hunt with a bow and arrow?"

"I'd be happy to. As long as you catch me a deer for the one today," Leliana added with an answering smirk.

"Thanks, Leli." Rathina, looking a lot happier than before, led Leliana into Lothering.


	4. Carver's Spite

_I wanted to write this story about my late brother Carver. He was a stubborn idiot, but we loved him anyway. This particular event happened around four years before the darkspawn invaded Lothering and we went to Kirkwall. He was just over 14, and finally beginning to realize the true implications of living with apostates..._

_-Hawke_

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><p><strong>Carver's Spite<strong>

Rathina Hawke leaned against a boulder in a clearing across from her house, whistling to herself. She was sharpening her daggers, her short, jet-black hair dancing around her face in the breeze. A few feet away from her, her fourteen-year-old brother Carver practiced with his sword. She watched him for a moment before her piercing blue gaze swept over to her sister Bethany, who was honing her elemental magic while their father Malcolm looked on. She twirled her staff and slammed the tip of it into the ground; a ring of fire sprung up around her.

"Whoops!" Carver smirked at Rathina as his sword swung over her head, just barely missing her hair. As fast as lightning, she leaped to her feet and flicked one of her daggers up to his throat, a finger width away from his neck.

"Do that again, I dare you," she said, but her blue eyes shone teasingly.

"Careful, you two!" Malcolm called. He frowned at them, and his sapphire gaze- identical to his eldest daughter's- were rebuking. "Those things are sharp, remember!"

"He started it," Rathina retorted, but she grinned and danced away. A jet of fire shot past her head; Rathina turned to see Bethany laughing at her.

"Bethany," Malcolm said warningly.

"I know. Sorry, Dad," Bethany giggled. He threw his hands up in the air teasingly and walked away, heading back to the house. Rathina watched him for a moment, narrowing her eyes in suspicion when he lifted his hand and pressed it to his temple, his shoulders drooping with what was obviously an exhausted sigh. Carver called to her then, demanding a duel, to which she cheerfully complied. After only a few minutes full of her flurrying daggers and his slower sword, she had him pinned to the ground with one knee and a dagger at his throat.

"I win!" Rathina announced, her gaze shining with amusement. He scowled at her for a moment before shoving her off of him and rising to his feet. His gaze scanned the small town while Rathina exchanged a triumphant glance with Bethany.

"Templars," Carver warned suddenly, his voice sharp; the girls' heads snapped around to see the mail-clad men walking on the road nearby. Bethany dived behind Rathina's boulder; the movement caught the templars' attention and they turned.

"Good evening, men," Rathina called charmingly, winking at them. Her short black hair framed her face, making her electric blue eyes stand out even more.

"Er- good evening," the templar in front said a little suspiciously.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Rathina said brightly. She moved closer to the men and started flirting with them; they unwittingly followed her away from the boulder.

"That was close," Bethany sighed, straightening once they were out of sight.

"Very," Rathina agreed with a sigh as she returned. "Good thing you saw them, Carver."

"You're welcome," he snapped. "Be more careful next time, will you? I won't always see them first." He stormed away. Bethany watched with raised eyebrows. She turned to look at her older sister, who had a similar expression.

"Strange," Rathina managed. They were both quiet for a moment. They shrugged at almost the same time and then Rathina slumped beside her sister to finish sharpening her daggers, a little halfheartedly. Bethany watched, a worried twist to her lips.

"Let's head home," Rathina decided after a while, her own gaze a little anxious. Bethany nodded and they turned and walked back to their small house.

Rathina pushed the door open to the Hawke house.

"Welcome back," Leandra said, smiling at the two from the kitchen. Her light almond-colored eyes twinkled at them, her brown streaked with gray hair pulled back loosely from her face. "Where's Carver?"

"He ran off." Rathina scowled. "I didn't see where he went."

"Can you go find him, Rathina?" Leandra asked, frowning. "Dinner's almost ready, and I don't want the twins running off after dark." Her gaze was on Bethany, who had difficulty refraining from rolling her eyes. Rathina, who was a little over twenty years old, did pretty much whatever she wanted. As long as she was back by midnight.

"Sure," Rathina agreed. "Where d'you suppose he went? The tavern?"

"The Chantry, maybe?" Bethany suggested doubtfully, ignoring her sister's quip. Carver would often go to the Chantry and listen to Sister Leliana's stories.

Rathina considered this.

"Good idea," she answered. "I'll be back soon, Mother." She left the house and headed to the Chantry. There she was greeted by the redheaded Sister.

"Hello," Leliana said, looking a little surprised. "What can I do for you?" She spoke with a soft Orlesian accent. Her gaze twinkled with some amusement as their eyes met.

"Have you seen Carver?" Rathina asked, getting straight to the point. "He ran off." Leliana's brows furrowed.

"I'm afraid not," she said apologetically. Rathina sighed.

"Thanks anyway, Sister," she replied with a frown. "Sorry to bother you." She turned away as Leliana bid her good luck.

Rathina's gaze turned to the darkening sky and a deeper frown crossed her face.

"Where is he?" she wondered aloud, brushing her short hair out of her face in agitation, her ice blue eyes flashing. "Stubborn idiot."

* * *

><p>Rathina continued to search Lothering, checking at Carver's friends' houses and even poking into the tavern. Finally she headed to the outskirts of the small town, guessing that he'd gone to the pond out by the fields. An unlikely spot, but one of the few she hadn't searched yet. Around her, it was still dusky with the faintest trace of the setting sun in the west.<p>

"Carver?" she called quietly, peering through a small copse of trees. Her daggers seemed to appear in her hands as she heard a low growl. "Carver!" she called again, louder now.

"Sister!" Her brother's voice was a yelp. She heard the scraping sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath and then another snarl. Carver appeared in her view through the trees as he leaped back, a bear lunging toward him. Rathina instantly disappeared, sneaking around the trees and hugging the shadows as she moved toward the bear. With her own cry, she flew forward, becoming visible again, to stab the bear in the side. It roared and turned on her as she danced away. Carver's huge blade came down on its neck and the body fell at their feet. They stared at it, panting, for a few moments as the adrenaline died down. Rathina glowered at her brother, who purposely avoided making eye contact.

"Let's take the bear home, maybe Mother will find something useful to do with it," she decided after a moment. Together they hauled the bear into a manageable position to carry back. Rathina took the lead and started back to the house.

"Carver, what were you _thinking_?" she asked suddenly. "You know that bears and wolves are always wandering around over there!"

"I didn't ask you to come after me," he snapped.

"And I sure as hell didn't want to have to come after you and save your sorry ass!" she retorted, her icy gaze glinting.

"Save the lecture," he muttered, dropping his gaze. "I'll be sure to get one from Mother when we get back." She fell into a thoughtful silence. She could see Carver contemplating his supposed victory until she spoke again.

"What were you doing, anyway?" Rathina wanted to know. Then her face slipped into one of exaggerated horror. "Maker's breath, don't tell me you were meeting with a girl!" She had the satisfaction of seeing a flush creep up her younger brother's cheeks.

"Even if I was, that wouldn't be any of your business," he retorted.

"Oh?" Her gaze glinted evilly. Then she shook her head and released a sigh. "Seriously... why did you run off like that? You looked really angry."

"It's those damn templars." Carver had an annoyed scowl on his face.

"_Oh._" Rathina grunted in surprise, shifting the bear corpse into a better position.

"I wish they weren't always searching for apostates and invading our lives," he complained. "The bastards are always poking their noses into everyone's business."

"You think it's bad, just imagine being an apostate," Rathina commented with some amusement. Her expression sobered quickly though. "At least they don't know about Bethany and Father, though. Yet." She sighed.

"Is the Circle really that bad, though?" Carver asked. Rathina looked scandalized.

"Carver, how could you even say such a thing," she hissed, shocked. Then she sighed and forced herself to relax. "If it wasn't that bad, Dad wouldn't have run away," she pointed out.

"I know, but still." Carver sighed. "I can't watch out for Bethany my entire life!"

"She's our _sister_, Carver," Rathina reminded him with a disapproving frown. "What would she do if your positions were reversed?" He fell silent. "Exactly." Rathina ran a hand through her hair. "We have to watch out for our family."

"I know." He scowled. "I just... it's not fair."

"Life isn't fair." Rathina sighed and shook her head, summoning up her energy again. "Try to cheer up a bit, why don't you? Look on the bright side of life," she suggested with a bit of a smirk, clapping her brother on the shoulder. "Mother's waiting for us, she's made a delicious dinner. Let's head home, before she gets too worried." Their dispute settled for the evening, the siblings returned to their home to clean up for dinner.


	5. Hawke's Favor

_**Author's Note: **_**First of all, to anyone who might be keeping up with this, I changed the title of the story a couple days ago (obviously) and I added a few things to the prologue, so hopefully it makes more sense!**

**This story is kind of short, but it's rather sweet. It's the first one written fully from a different character's perspective. As always, I hope you enjoy and please review! ^_^**

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><p><em>Earlier I suggested to Fenris that he should write a story. I managed to convince him to (reluctantly) agree to write one, although he flat out refused to write an introduction! I think he writes pretty well, actually, I don't see why he is so self-conscious about it. Ah, look, he's shaking his head at me now! Well, call it whatever you like, Fenris, I call what you're being now shy, but I still love you!<em>

_Anyway, he was thinking about his still fairly new ability to read and write, so he decided to jot down this particular story, about the time I decided to teach him how to read. It's actually a bit of a revelation for me- I'd never realized how much he doubted himself that day, or how he actually saw me back then... (By the way, I can't actually read minds, despite what the others say!)_

_-Hawke_

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><p><strong>Hawke's Favor<strong>

Fenris paced back and forth in front of his fireplace, scowling at himself and clenching his fists. It was a week after he'd left Hawke, and he was already doubting himself.

He paused in his striding for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Two days after that night, she'd shown up at his doorstep and invited him cheerfully to go with her to speak with the Arishok. Nothing about her was different that day, except for the depressed, shadowy expressions that passed across her face when she thought no one was looking, and the fact that she'd also been staggering a bit and muttering about a headache- Isabela told him later that Hawke had spent the previous day with her and Varric at the Hanged Man. Her sarcastic quips and smirks still leapt easily to her lips, though, which came as absolutely no surprise to him.

Well, that was Hawke, the perfect actress. Fenris only wished he could hide his own pain as well as she could. However, knowing her, she probably saw through his own facade easily- but also, knowing her, the pain would be gnawing away at her insides as much as it was with his. When she looked at him without that signature smirk, she always had that knowing, sympathetic smile on her face, like she could read his mind. Damn, why did she have to be so understanding? It would have been a lot easier to leave her for her own safety if he knew she wouldn't understand his reasons. But that was one of the traits that endeared her most to him: her understanding and her empathy. He growled a few choice words in Tevinter and picked up the wine bottle he'd left on the coffee table. He eyed it distastefully before chucking it at the already wine-stained walls. It shattered into a pile of glass.

"Redecorating the walls?" a laughing voice teased. He whirled around, his hand flying instinctively to his sword, but he knew who it was before he turned. He saw her calculating blue eyes follow his hand to his sword hilt and fall to his side just as quickly. She turned her twinkling gaze to meet his own impassive eyes, her mouth quirked into that mischievous smile. Sometimes, he almost forgot how quietly she moved, but he hadn't expected her to appear in his house so soon after... "Mind if I help?"

"By all means," he retorted, "seeing as you've already broken into my house." He felt a smirk tug at the edges of his own lips, and he felt lighter, less angry, now that he was in her presence. It seemed as if everything was right again. Which, of course, he knew it wasn't. But Hawke always made it feel that way.

She stepped out of the doorway, out of the shadows and into the firelight. He saw now that her expression was a little anxious; she was gazing at the ground, chewing on her lip, her hands clasped in front of her. Her jet black hair slid forward slightly, and he irritably suppressed the urge to reach forward and gently tuck the strand back behind her ear...

"Is something wrong?" he asked, hoping to distract himself but failing miserably, wanting badly to close the small distance between them and wrap his arms around her, holding her close...

Her gaze snapped up and she blinked at him, looking almost apologetic, as if she could see his discomfort. She absently lifted her hand and pushed her hair back, the tiniest flash of annoyance crossing her face. He hid an amused smirk; he knew she hated wearing her hair down, but she allowed her mother to style it for her.

"No," she answered his question, her gaze flickering down to the floor for a moment before she lifted it determinedly and looked him in the eye. "Actually, I brought something for you. A... a gift." He lifted an eyebrow in a rare display of undisguised surprise. He'd never received a gift from anyone before. It was simple: slaves were never given gifts or presents. He was lucky to ever receive even a word of praise from Danarius, though even those were usually sarcastic.

Grinning in triumph at his surprised expression, Hawke drew a small, rectangular package out of her bag. It was wrapped raggedly in brown paper, and tied with a beautiful, red silk scarf. She handed it to him and he weighed it in his hands, eying it curiously, looking almost confused and a little uncertain.

"Open it," she laughed, rolling her eyes with teasing impatience. "It's not going to bite, I swear." A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he smoothly untied the scarf. He hesitated, then set it down gently on the coffee table before ripping the paper off. He found an old, coarse brown book in his hands. Dread coursed through him as he lifted his gaze to meet Hawke's expectant expression.

"What is it?"

"Your new weapon!" she cried dramatically. "May you give all our enemies paper cuts and feel the satisfaction of watching them bleed out!" He chuckled somewhat reluctantly and she smirked at him. "No, really, it's a book by Shartan. I thought you'd like it."

"Where did you get this?" he stalled, his eyebrows pulling together slightly. She shot him a curious look as she answered, "Earlier this evening, I was visiting Merrill and I found it on the way home. In a barrel." He raised his eyebrows and she shrugged. "Do you like it?" she added, her eyes glowing excitedly. The glow faded at his hesitation, and she watched him a little anxiously now.

"It's a thoughtful gift," he hedged. She sighed. Her gaze was searching, and her jaw tightened in disappointment after a moment; trying to read him, he was sure, but she didn't find any answers.

"Shit, Fenris, what's the problem?" she all but demanded, looking almost desperate.

"Slaves... aren't taught to read." He shifted uncomfortably. Her jaw dropped, and she stared at him, dumbfounded with horror and dismay.

"Oh, damn! Maker, Fenris, I'm so sorry! I should have realized- shouldn't have been so insensitive..." Her eyes were wide, chagrined. He found himself rushing to reassure her, appalled to have startled her so badly.

"It's all right," he insisted, again fighting the urge to grab her hand comfortingly. "You couldn't have known..." She scowled in irritation.

"Danarius was such a bastard," she snapped, surprising him again with her sudden mood swing. "I can't believe he didn't even let you _read._" Her eyes flashed with anger, her nose wrinkling in an undeniably adorable way.

"No slaves are permitted to read," he pointed out. "It's too much work for the magisters to teach them." She rolled her eyes contemptuously at his words. Her scowl of anger darkened even more before completely dissipating a moment later. Her eyes lit up again, and he sighed inwardly with relief. He recognized the gleam in her eyes she got before she blurted out a crazy idea.

"I can teach you how to read!" she exclaimed, grinning triumphantly. Her joy was contagious; he smirked and lifted an eyebrow, excitement at the prospect rippling through him and lightening his mossy gaze.

"Don't I get a choice in the matter?"

"Nope," she answered cheerfully. "This is a skill that, as an illegal resident of Hightown, you are required to possess." He chuckled.

"By whom?" he asked teasingly.

"By _me,_" she declared. She dug through her bag and whipped out a piece of paper and a quill. "Good thing I always carry paper with me," she informed him, her eyes sparkling. He lifted an eyebrow. "It's for the paper-cut thing. It's actually very useful," she added, winking. He rolled his eyes.

"You amaze me, Rathina Hawke."

"If only I had a copper for every time someone told me that," she retorted laughingly. There was a slight shadow lingering behind her excitement, but it was gone almost instantly and Fenris was unsure that he'd actually seen it. There was definitely something on her mind, he could tell from having known her three years, but that same amount of time had also told him that he probably wouldn't get a straight answer if he asked her about it.

She grabbed his wrist and yanked him over to his desk, shoving him playfully into the chair and drawing up another one beside it. She dropped the paper on the table and dipped her quill in some ink before turning back to the paper and scrawling letters on it. Fenris peered over her shoulder curiously. Since he couldn't read, he just admired her handwriting; it was loopy but somehow still elegant, slightly slanted, and fairly big. It seemed to match her personality perfectly. She finished writing out the letters, and he counted twenty-six of them.

"Now," she began and pointed to the first letter, "this is the letter 'a'..."

* * *

><p>Midnight found Fenris sitting at his desk, still studying the small letters thoughtfully. Hawke had left a little while ago after blithely commanding him to study his letters. She had shown him how to write out his name, and, after some persuasion, her own. He blinked in wonder at his name on the paper, written first in her handwriting and beside it with his own hand, which was very sloppy comparatively. She assured him it would get better with practice.<p>

His gaze roamed over to her name. It looked almost as beautiful as it sounded out loud, and a small, tentative smile crossed his features at the thought. He continued to eye the words for several more minutes, committing them to memory. Finally the letters started to swim before his eyes and he yawned, shoving the chair away from the desk and rising to his feet. He ran his hand through his shock of white hair and padded over to the coffee table. He picked up the book, holding it gingerly in fear of dropping or damaging it in any way. He set it down on the desk and turned back to the room, flickering with the dying embers in the fireplace. He spotted the little red scarf that his gift had been tied his gift with, and he picked it up, running his fingers thoughtfully over the silky surface. He found a little, gold inscription at the edge: it was his name, now recognizable, sewn into the scarf. A surprised, tender smile curled his lips and, after a brief moment of hesitation, he wound the scarf around his wrist. The flames in the fire died completely, leaving the room pitch-black except for the small ray of moonlight drifted through the window.

"Thank you, Hawke," he whispered to the empty, dark room.


	6. Tranquility

_**Author's Note:**_

**Hey guys! Sorry, it's been a couple weeks since I published the last story, but I've been really busy. My birthday was on the 8th, and I got Legacy and Mark of the Assassin ^_^ I've already finished playing both of those, so you can look forward to a couple stories based off of them in the near future. Also, I had a little difficulty writing this, because I decided to dip into Bethany's inkwell for it, and I had some trouble remembering this quest... I sort of cut it short since it was taking so long to write- I don't know if I'll ever write a second part for this story to conclude the quest... **

**By the way, if you have an idea for a story or a plot that you want me to write with my Rathina Hawke, I'm willing to hear suggestions. Hopefully I'll have the next story up here pretty soon, too, as I'm mostly finished.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, and as always, please review! :D**

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><p><em>Hey there! So, earlier today, Rathina thrust her journal into my hands and told me to write a story about Anders. After what he did, I think she still has difficulty talking about him... Totally understandable, I guess. She thinks it's her fault. I think we all want to remember him as he was, not how he ended up... except Fenris, maybe. <em>

_Well, I wrote this about the first time we ever met Anders at his clinic. It was an interesting experience- he was the first apostate I'd ever met in Kirkwall. Anyway, I wound up cutting this a little short, because Rathina was getting impatient... Please enjoy!_

_-Bethany_

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><p><strong>Tranquility<strong>

Bethany Hawke yawned, her mind buzzing with boredom. She lifted her head to frown at the clouds scuttling across the sky, almost like ants crawling over an anthill. Next to her, Varric was trying to joke with Fenris, who ignored him and gazed impassively at the nearby alienage. Finally, Varric gave up his attempts at cheering up the broody elf and shoved himself off the building they were leaning on.

"What's taking Hawke so long?" he groused. "I'm about to go in after her myself." Bethany didn't even have enough time to open her mouth before her sister stepped out of the run-down building, looking harassed.

"Speak of the devil," Fenris murmured, straightening and turning to look at Hawke. Bethany pushed away from the wall and brushed dust off her robes.

"How did it go?" she asked, lifting a curious eyebrow.

"It's packed in there," Hawke groaned theatrically, gesturing with her hand for them to listen and follow as she moved away. "There's more people in there than there were on the boat we took to get here!... Well, maybe not, but you get the idea." Bethany trotted along behind her sister's slightly longer, quicker stride, listening with wide, curious eyes as her sister described the scene. Fenris strode along beside her, watching silently, as Varric asked all the questions.

"What did you find out?" he demanded.

"Well, after some persuasion, they told me that the Grey Warden is in Darktown," she announced. She raised an eyebrow, glancing back to read their reactions to her next bit of information. "They said he's from Ferelden- apparently he knew the Hero, too."

"Cool," Bethany said with a grin, blinking with some surprise.

"Small world, huh?" agreed her sister with some sarcasm. "It's nice to know that you can have a decent, illegal living as a refugee." Varric chuckled.

"What's he doing in Darktown?" asked the dwarf.

"He heals Ferelden refugees for free," she answered. "It took a lot of convincing before they believed that I wasn't trying to hurt him."

"How come he left the Grey Wardens?" Bethany wanted to know.

"Beats me," Hawke answered, shrugging. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Are we going now?" Bethany asked, her eyes widening with excitement. Hawke hesitated, her gaze flicking down to the dwarf.

"Sunshine, I don't know if it would be safe for you to go to Darktown," Varric put in. Bethany's lips tugged down into a petulant frown.

"Why not?" she wanted to know. "I can take care of myself!" She scowled in frustration- her sister was always so unnecessarily protective of her. It was annoying.

"Well, there are all sorts of bandits and Carta dwarfs down there..." Varric answered her question a little concernedly. She turned to her sister with wide, pleading eyes. Hawke wavered, her icy gaze narrowing slightly with internal conflict.

"You'll take me with you, right? Please, sister!" Bethany begged.

"Bethany, Mother wants me to keep you safe..." Hawke hedged.

"Well, even if we get attacked, I'll stay out of the way and let you and Fenris get them," Bethany promised, her eyes begging like a puppy. "Please, Rathina, I just don't want to be stuck in the sewer that Gamlen calls a house..."

"All right, you can come," Hawke relented with a sigh. "Stay close to me, okay?"

"Of course!" Bethany agreed readily, grinning triumphantly. "Thank you, Rathina!"

"Don't mention it," Hawke answered, rolling her eyes. She growled something under her breath as she led them to Darktown.

* * *

><p>After a swift encounter with some annoyed Ferelden refugees, in which Bethany convinced them that they weren't trying to hurt the apostate healer, they finally made it to Darktown. As Varric had predicted, they were attacked by a few Carta dwarfs, but between the four of them the dwarfs were dispatched quickly. Hawke rose from looting the bodies and paused, looking around like a dog searching for its owner.<p>

"Something wrong?" Varric teased.

"Err... I don't know where to go," she admitted with a frown, her cheeks flushing. Fenris actually laughed aloud, a surprisingly rich, deep chuckle reverberating through the air. Bethany glanced at him curiously out of the corner of her eye.

"Didn't the woman give you any directions?" Bethany exclaimed, exasperated.

"Uhh... I think she said... go north?" Hawke guessed, a frustrated scowl tugging the corner of her mouth down. "She said to look for the house with a single lit lantern."

"Woah, Hawke, lost?" Varric exclaimed with a snort. "Too bad Daisy isn't here, she'd love to see this!"

"Oh, shut up," Hawke growled.

"I thought you would've done a lot of business down here when you worked with that smuggler?" Fenris commented, giving her a sideways glance that Bethany didn't miss. Hawke shrugged, chagrined.

"Bethany did all the navigating," she explained. "I can't read a map to save my life. We never came to this part of Darktown, anyway." Bethany smirked, drawing her shoulders up with some pride.

"Oh, really? Well done, Sunshine," Varric chuckled, reaching up and clapping her teasingly on the shoulder. Bethany rolled her eyes.

"I'm glad you approve of my abiility to read pictures," she answered a little mockingly. _Jeez, Rathina is rubbing off on me..._ Turning back to Hawke, she asked, "She said to go north?"

"Yeah." Hawke paused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "Let's go this way," she decided after a moment, striding straight forward.

"Erm, sis? You might try going the other way," Bethany suggested, muffling laughter and catching Hawke's arm. Rathina gave her a blank stare.

"Why?"

"That way's south," Fenris pointed out in his velvety baritone voice that rippled with another chuckle. "Bethany's right. We should go that way." He pointed out a path to their left.

"Ah, yes," Hawke said, blushing and looking a little flustered. "I just wanted to take the scenic route!"

"Of course, sister," Bethany retorted, rolling her eyes. "Maybe into a few more Carta dwarfs, right?" She took the lead, turning down the path, occasionally casting her gaze to the sky to judge their direction- a trick her sister seemed unable to figure out. To her credit, Hawke followed at her heels, an impatient scowl on her face.

"Is this it?" Bethany asked a while later, stopping in front of a small building- more of a hut, really- with a single burning lantern dangling in front of it.

"Ah, yes," Hawke answered, relief spreading across her features. She strode over to the door. "Should we knock?" she wondered, amused.

"I wouldn't bother, we're going in regardless," Varric responded, smirking. Hawke shrugged and shoved the door open. They were met by a strange sight.

A man with blonde hair and a feathered cape stood over a slightly bloodstained cot with a little boy laying on it. The boy's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Nearby stood two other adults- his parents, maybe? The blonde man was obviously working complex magic over the boy; he whispered under his breath, his hands glowing blue and hovering over the boy's body. A drop of sweat slid down his nose, and he absently lifted a hand to wipe it off. Bethany could practically hear Fenris's disapproving scowl. She ignored him, watching the healer with wide, curious eyes.

Hawke waited silently in the doorway, a slight frown on her face, mirroring Fenris's expression. Varric stood silently at her elbow, gazing off into space with a glazed, indifferent expression.

Finally the healer stepped back from the cot and turned away, burying his face in his hands with a tired sigh. The boy jumped off the cot and raced over to his mother, throwing his arms around her and embracing her tightly. The boy's father walked over to the healer, putting a hand on his shoulder and murmuring a few words of gratitude. Then the family turned and left, skirting around Hawke and co. with frightened glances.

Fenris shifted, causing his armor to rustle.

The mage whirled around, snatching up a long, wooden rod leaning against the wall. _Wait, not a rod- a mage staff! _Bethany instinctively reached for her own staff- the one she'd inherited from her father- surreptitiously stepping behind her sister at the same time. She thought she saw the mage's almond colored gaze follow her movement.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation! Why do you threaten it?" he shouted. He glowered at Hawke and her companions- Bethany thought she caught a glimmer of fear in his gaze. Her sister could probably read his expression like a book...

"Why the hell would we be threatening you? Do we _look_ like templars?" Hawke demanded, gesturing to Bethany with an amused glimmer in her eyes. She made no move to reach for her daggers, but Bethany knew that didn't mean anything. Her sister could snatch up her daggers in the blink of an eye. The healer's gaze roved over Bethany's staff before they locked eyes. She thought she saw a glint of blue, and she suppressed a shudder.

"No," the mage admitted after a moment, stepping back and leaning his staff against the wall again. He turned to eye them suspiciously. "Did the Wardens send you to bring me back? Because I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat..."

"Your cat. Right." Bethany could see the difficulty with which her sister suppressed rolling her eyes. Varric snorted, but he managed to pass it off as a violent coughing fit. Even Fenris lifted his eyebrows, but Bethany couldn't read his expression. For that matter, she didn't think anybody could. Except maybe her sister.

"We weren't sent by the Wardens," Bethany told the healer, a little irritated at the others' behavior.

"Then why are you here? You look healthy enough to me." He frowned at them, still wary.

"Maps," Hawke answered, businesslike now.

"What makes you think I have maps?"

"You were a Grey Warden before, weren't you?" she asked, a little tauntingly. "We need maps to plan an expedition to the Deep Roads."

"You would go into that cursed place voluntarily?" He lifted his eyebrows, surprised and skeptical. "Why?"

"I need a vacation," Hawke answered sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Will you give us the maps?" He leaned back against the wall, thinking.

"What's your name?" Bethany interrupted, her gaze glowing with curiosity. His almond eyes swept over to her calculatingly, and she thought she caught another flash of blue. _Strange._

"You can call me Anders. What's yours?" he wanted to know, looking genuinely curious and somewhat relieved at the distraction. He had a kind expression, Bethany thought. But there was something else in his gaze that she couldn't quite put a name to, making him look a little harried.

"I'm Hawke. This is my sister, Bethany, the dwarf Varric, and... Fenris." Hawke cut back in to the conversation, shooting Bethany a glance that made her cheeks flush with annoyance. Obviously her sister didn't want her speaking to this mage, but she couldn't see any harm in it. She noted a slight hesitation in Hawke's voice before she spoke Fenris's name, and she wondered at it

"Hawke? I've heard about you," Anders commented thoughtfully. He turned partly away from them, lowering his chin and frowning slightly at the ground, deep in thought. He seemed to nod to himself before turning back to them. "I will give you the maps. But I have a condition, first. A favor for a favor, if you will."

"There's _always_ a condition," Hawke sighed. "What is it?"

"I know a mage in the Gallows. A friend of mine. I have a plan to free him, but the templars may have found out, so I need help. If you help me, I'll give you the map," he promised.

"Templars? Is that all? I may as well just take my chances with the darkspawn." Hawke rolled her eyes.

"If we have to fight templars, it's because they decide that anyone who befriends a mage deserves to die," he answered harshly. _Touchy subject,_ Bethany noted. The strange glint in his eye stood out even more now- she was starting to recognize what it was. She shifted, uncomfortable with his words. She spoke again.

"As just as his cause is, it frightens me a little... the templars don't need another reason to hunt us," she murmured, mostly to her sister.

"We should leave the mage where he is," Fenris growled. "Find another way into the Deep Roads. Another possible blood mage running around is the last thing we need."

"Karl isn't a blood mage," Anders retorted hotly. Hawke glowered at all of them, and Anders' mouth snapped shut, but he continued to scowl at Fenris, who did likewise.

"I understand your concern," she said to both Fenris and Bethany, "but we need those maps. We can't afford to wait too long." Bethany sighed, but she nodded her acquiescence.

"Do what you will, but I'll kill the mage myself if he tries to summon a demon," Fenris answered, still frowning but looking slightly less hostile. Hawke nodded, pleased, and turned back to Anders.

"If you still want me to help you, meet me at the Chantry tonight," he told her.

"We'll be there," she promised, turning to leave. Fenris strode out ahead of her, his gait catlike and controlled, although Bethany caught a glimpse of his burning gaze. Varric stepped out behind him. Bethany started for the door.

"Wait." Bethany turned, arching an eyebrow. Anders was watching her curiously.

"Do you need something?" she said.

"You're an apostate, too, aren't you?" he guessed.

"I am," she answered a little curtly, drawing herself up. "I've never been to the Circle. I've been free all my life."

"You're lucky, then." He sighed, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "I'll see you around, I guess. Perhaps we could talk more later. It's a pleasure meeting you."

"Coming, Bethany?" Hawke had poked her head back in the door, impatience apparent in her shocking blue eyes.

"Err, right." Bethany glanced back at the mage, who was watching her closely, and nodded to him before darting after Hawke. _What an odd, interesting man._ She gave her sister a sideways glance and saw her eyes narrowed, a little troubled, as she led them back to Lowtown.


	7. The Warden

**_Author's Note: _**

**Hi again! Anyway, this story takes place in Hawke's past before Kirkwall again. After this one I'll probably start writing more that actually take place during the game, but I had to wait to finish this one, because it's been nagging at me... This story features more characters that I think you'll recognize, so hopefully it'll be a fun story for you guys to read :p I always thought Hawke was an incredibly empathetic person, and I tried to convey that in this story.**

**To those of you who have favorited this or added it to your story alerts, thank you for reading! Please drop a review every now and then though, so I don't feel so lonely? :D**

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><p><em>Hey there! I'm back again! Wonderful story from Bethany last chapter, don't you think?<em>

_So in this story, I described the time I actually met the Warden, Arianna Cousland. I met her and her companions when they stopped in Lothering on their way to save the world. It was one of the few times I dueled someone who was my equal... (Although I was going easy on her- I didn't want to hurt the Warden!)_

_It was a short encounter, but very interesting. I think we both learned a lot. The Warden is definitely a curious woman... I've only ever seen her the one time, although I've seen Alistair once more since then (after he became King). I hope someday maybe I'll get to meet such a courageous woman again._

_Anyway, please enjoy!_

_-Hawke_

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><p><strong>The Warden<strong>

Hawke strode through Lothering, one hand on a dagger as her gaze warily swept the surrounding area. The atmosphere, compared to two weeks ago, was very taught and dismal, especially with the refugees crowding at the outskirts of the town. It felt as if the whole town held its breath, waiting for the pin to drop and shatter the whole world.

It was several days after the failed battle of Ostagar and the death of King Cailan. The few lucky survivors, like Hawke herself and Carver, had returned home and spread the news dully. It was a total shock to everyone, as they had expected the battle to be an instant success. The worst part, though, was the dawning realization that the darkspawn were heading north- to Lothering.

Hawke paused a moment, listening to the faint cries coming from the refugee camp, the sounds of little kids who just wanted to go back home. Her face was drawn with stress and exhaustion, yet she was unable to stand still. Her bright blue eyes shone with determination as she resumed her purposeful stride. Even Fang, bounding at her side, was solemn.

As they padded over to the single jackass merchant in town, Hawke reflected on the expressions on everyone's faces when she and Carver had told their grim story. Bethany in particular had been shocked by the tale of Loghain's betrayal, and the death of so many at the hands of the darkspawn. The look of something akin to hero worship Bethany gave her sister afterward was fairly annoying, but Hawke understood what it meant- _one of those bodies on that battlefield could have been mine._

She wondered who else had survived, if anyone. She and Carver had gathered as many other soldiers as they could once they realized what had happened, but several had stoutly refused to leave the battlefield, insisting that Loghain was just held up. _Proud idiots, the lot of them, _Hawke thought, grief darkening her expression and her eyes. Fang seemed to sense it, and he whimpered piteously. They had ended up convincing only four others to leave the battlefield with them, and one of them had died from the darkspawn poisoning. They did, however, manage to meet up with a red-haired warrior whose name Hawke had forgotten- something that started with an 'A', maybe? She was terrible at names. Anyway, the red-headed woman had twice as many soldiers with her, and they'd all managed to make it back to Lothering. Besides them, though, Lothering had seen precious few survivors, and they were the closest town to Ostagar that wasn't ravaged by darkspawn- yet.

Suddenly a shout rang through the air, followed by the clanging sound of a sword on armor. Hawke started and whirled around. She dropped into a crouch and whipped her daggers out, her eyes narrowing as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She was startled to see someone attacking those damn bandits that guarded the entrance to the town- she could never seem to find them, or if she could, take them on by herself... She sighed, half-amused and half-irritated with her jumpy reflexes.

She spotted a flash of unnatural violet light, and was momentarily confused- _Bethany?_ She realized after a moment that Bethany could really only do elemental and some healing magic, so it couldn't be her sister. Another apostate, maybe? The spell cast a cloud of smoke that cloaked the fighters so she couldn't see them anymore. She waited impatiently for the smoke to clear; the sounds of more hacking and slashing of swords were still audible, along with that of a growling dog. When it did finally clear, she was surprised to see the bandits' corpses littering the ground, with three humans standing over them and sheathing their weapons and a Mabari hound sitting beside them. She slipped back into the shadows of a nearby tool shed so she could watch and remain hidden.

The first human she noticed looked to be in charge. She (or, at least, it looked like a woman from this angle because of the slim figure) strode forward purposefully to kneel next to the bandit's bodies and loot them for gold or any other useful things. She had expensive-looking leather armor, although it was well-worn from travel and fighting. The hilts of two daggers poked out of sheaths on her hips.

A glint of metal caught her eye next, and Hawke's gaze swept over to an armor-clad, muscular figure. He carried a heavy-looking shield on his left arm and a fairly big sword in his right hand. As she watched, he yanked off his helmet to reveal a vaguely familiar face and fairly short blond hair. Even from this distance she could see his expressive brown eyes narrow in irritation at a few whispered words from their other companion. He opened his mouth, readying a retort.

The other woman was strange, to say the least. She had a sharp, mocking expression and honey-gold eyes. Hawke was startled to recognize a magic staff in her hands. _Ah, so that's the apostate..._ She wore few clothes, but the outfit covered the important parts, at least. Her hair was jet black and pinned up. She had a slightly wild, independent look to her features.

The Mabari hound bounced around next to the man. It was sleeker, larger, and obviously more well-bred than her own Fang. It definitely looked more ferocious because of the war paint that darkened its flanks.

Fang, standing at her side, uttered a low growl, obviously scenting the other Mabari. Hawke absently scratched his ear, frowning at the strangers. She had the vaguest sense that she had seen the man before, as well as the Mabari. She waited impatiently to see the other woman's face.

Finally, the leather-clad woman straightened, and she recoiled in shock as the face instantly clicked with a memory.

_The new Warden!_

Hawke hadn't seen her since Ostagar, and even then, she'd caught only brief glimpses. She looked older, tired and more experienced but still fiercely determined, a character trait that Hawke had noticed the first time she laid eyes on the Warden. She now recognized the man with the shield to be Alistair, another Warden. _How many Wardens actually survived? _She doubted very much that any had, besides these two; she'd seen most of them slaughtered before her very eyes, and there weren't many to begin with.

Hawke watched even more intently now, determined to read as much of this woman as she could from her expression. The Warden's face was a proud, noble one- she recalled that the woman was the youngest child of Teryn Cousland.

Who was now dead, killed by Arl Howe's men according to this woman's own account.

Hawke noticed a lot in that first, brief glimpse of the Warden's face. She saw a mysterious, slightly amused and sarcastic quirk to her lips and eyebrows. She saw the memory of a rather stiff noble life in her posture, almost ramrod straight with her shoulders drawn back proudly. She saw a stern glare as the Warden teasingly scolded the golden-eyed woman for making fun of Alistair, who was quickly turning a light shade of pink. She saw rough days in the recent past in her messy bronze-colored hair and slightly sunburned cheeks. She saw long days of training in the way her weight shifted and she way she held her daggers. But she learned the most from her eyes.

The Warden's eyes were a mesmerizing emerald green color, almost as bright as Hawke's own icy gaze- to most anyone else, her expression was reserved and nigh unreadable, but Hawke recognized the expressions, as she often saw the same look in her own mirror. Amusement and rebuke warred as the dominant emotion in the Warden's slightly narrowed gaze, which sparkled with intelligence and wisdom beyond her years. But behind that glittering mask of emotions, Hawke saw a deep, clear pool of intense sadness and grief. She looked very... tense, as if she was under a lot of pressure- as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. Hidden behind even that, though, she observed a blazing flame burning for revenge, waiting for the right time to surface while slowly licking away at her insides.

But there was something else. Her sharp expression softened when it rested on Alistair, and her eyes glowed with a light that Hawke was almost unable to recognize, she had seen so rarely. From even this distance, she could see the strong bond of friendship that linked the Warden and Alistair. _I suppose getting cornered in a tower by darkspawn does that to you. _She was almost jealous. Almost.

All that information she gleaned from just a brief glimpse of the Warden's face.

Hawke slipped into a crouch, burying her fingers in Fang's fur as she processed the information with a rather glazed expression. The Warden turned away again, hiding her face from Hawke's view.

She recalled that the Warden's family had all been killed with Arl Howe's invasion of their estate in Highever. That could explain at least some of the grief. She guessed that the death of all the other Wardens in Ferelden was the source of her tension. It must be a terrible burden, Hawke concluded sadly, to be one of the very few remaining Grey Wardens in the country. She guessed that the female Warden and Alistair were the only two free Grey Wardens left- any others were either traitors or sitting in the Regent Loghain's dungeons right now. And she was positive that the golden-eyed woman was not a Warden.

Hawke mused over that with half her mind, focusing the other half on watching the Warden's movements. Lady Cousland- for Hawke couldn't remember her first name- had settled the argument and was now leading her companions into Lothering. She rose slowly to her feet. Fang jumped up as well, his ears pricking suspiciously.

Hawke watched the Warden approach the village- and her hiding place. Her wariness increased with every step the Warden took. Fang sensed her tension and growled deep in his throat, causing Hawke to scowl disapprovingly at him, but it was too late. The Warden's Mabari seemed to hear, for he stopped in his tracks and drew his lips back into a frightening snarl.

"What is it, boy?" Alistair asked, peering down at the dog, concern pulling his brows together.

"He's not going to answer you," pointed out the other woman, rolling her golden eyes mockingly. "He heard something, _obviously. _I swear, even with the dog you're still the dumbest one here..."

"Hey!" Alistair protested loudly, rounding on her and scowling with annoyance. The golden-eyed woman opened her mouth to retort.

Suddenly Hawke realized that the Warden wasn't standing next to them anymore. _Shit._

"Don't move," a voice growled in her ear. As disobedient as Hawke was, naturally she did the opposite. She hissed in annoyance and struggled hard. She broke free, her eyes widening in slight surprise at her success, and whirled away, drawing her daggers with one fluid movement as she spun to face her attacker. Emerald met sapphire as their gazes locked. The Warden also held a pair of daggers, she noted, much nicer-looking than her own, and definitely sharper. They exchanged wary glances, sizing each other up. Alistair and the golden-eyed woman were surprisingly silent, watching the Warden with respect and Hawke with amused pity. Rage thrummed through her veins as she realized that the Warden had _planned _this. She knew Hawke had been watching them. Dammit.

Hawke struck first. She danced forward, moving to graze the Warden across the chest with her dagger, but she purposefully held back a little, wanting to learn the other woman's fighting style. The Warden parried and struck back with surprising speed. Hawke sidestepped, and they exchanged a flurry of blows. Both women moved swiftly and gracefully, dancing back and forth in a deadly game of flashing daggers, but neither was able to touch the other. Hawke sensed that the Warden was also holding back, and she gritted her teeth at the realization that Cousland was playing with her. She dodged another attack and leaped away from the other woman. She slipped her daggers back into their sheaths and held up her hands, grimacing, although she couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the other woman. It had been a long time since she'd met someone her equal in dueling.

"Alright, you win," she sighed, stepping back and brushing a sweaty lock of hair off her face. She wasn't tired yet, not really, but she wasn't about to keep that up just for Lady Cousland's amusement, not when the darkspawn could spring up and attack them any time. It scraped roughly against her pride, though.

"I thought so." The Warden smirked slightly and lifted an eyebrow as she lowered her own daggers. The self-satisfied sneer fell from her face and she frowned down at Hawke. "Why were you watching us?" Hawke grimaced, fingering the hilts of her daggers as she pondered her answer; a wrong one could likely get her killed. From her periphery, she watched the golden-eyed woman and Alistair close in on them. On her.

"I saw you approaching, and I was curious... and a little suspicious," Hawke admitted, scowling at the ground. "And then I recognized your face, and I wanted to know, 'Why has the Warden, Lady Cousland, graced this small town with her presence?'" She lifted her gaze just in time to see Cousland's physical response to her remark. The Warden reacted in undisguised surprise, her eyes widening and her mouth opening slightly. The somewhat condescending shadow on her expression had fallen, to Hawke's relief.

"How do you know who I am?" she asked. Her voice was clear and sharp, that of one who wasn't used to being disobeyed. It also held a note of uncertainty, though.

"I saw you at Ostagar," Hawke replied, sadness and grief darkening her voice and her expression.

"I didn't know anybody had survived but us," the Warden remarked, her eyes still wide.

"How did you escape the darkspawn?" Alistair asked, his gaze narrowing with suspicion. He looked... distressed. His face was a little pinched, and he was frowning. _He lost somebody close to him in the battle,_ Hawke guessed.

"When we realized what Loghain had done, my brother and I gathered as many soldiers as we could and sprinted our asses off to get back here. Most of them didn't make it." Hawke sighed, grimacing. She was aware that they were still watching her suspiciously, but she forced herself to stay relaxed and hopefully she could avoid being attacked again... "How did you survive? I thought all the Grey Wardens were killed."

"We were sent to light the signal for Loghain." The Warden spat his name with undisguised hatred. "We were one of the lucky ones."

"I don't believe you," the apostate woman declared, her golden eyes flashing. She turned to Cousland. "This woman is probably a spy for that traitor Loghain!"

"Why would I spy for Loghain?" spat Hawke, disgusted. "He left all of us in Cailan's army to die, including the king, and then he blamed it on the Grey Wardens! I have no more liking for this man than you do."

"Back down, Morrigan," the Warden snapped. She turned to Hawke, eying her appraisingly. "He blamed the king's death on the Wardens?"

"He claims that it's the Wardens' fault King Cailan died," Hawke answered with a fierce scowl. "I was there. I saw what happened; it's not true."

"I see." The Warden frowned with irritation, but she didn't look at all surprised. "What's your name?"

"Hawke." She paused a moment before speaking her first name. "Rathina Hawke. But you can just call me Hawke."

"Hawke," the Warden mused. "A strong name." She eyed Hawke, waiting for her reaction.

"If I had a sovereign for every time someone told me that..." Hawke bit back a sigh of relief at the turn the conversation had taken. The ability to talk herself out of most any situation was definitely a valuable one... The Warden laughed.

"It's true, nevertheless. Arianna Cousland, at your service, but please just call me Arianna. This is Alistair-" Hawke nodded to Alistair, who nodded in response- "my Mabari, Fluffy, and Morrigan." Morrigan scowled disapprovingly at Hawke, who just shrugged. She hesitated, then took a step forward and lowered her voice.

"You ought to be careful in Lothering," she warned. "There are a lot of templars crawling around here. Way too many, if you ask me..."

"I don't need advice from you," Morrigan snapped, her gold eyes hardening.

"I'm just trying to help. I don't like the Circle any more than you do," Hawke answered uneasily, her gaze dropping briefly to the ground. Arianna lifted a curious eyebrow, and Hawke winced inwardly, cursing at her momentary lack of composure. She couldn't afford to let it slip; the Warden was most definitely _not _an idiot. Morrigan just rolled her eyes and turned to Arianna.

"Can we quit exchanging pleasantries with the locals? We have a country to save," she growled.

"Oh, right." Arianna sighed dramatically, glancing at Hawke with slumping shoulders and apology in her gaze. "It was nice meeting you, Hawke," she said, her eyes gleaming momentarily.

"And you. Ah, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine meeting a real live Warden!" she laughed, smirking at Arianna, who grinned in reply. "Perhaps we shall duel again someday?" she added, a little hopefully.

"Perhaps," Arianna acknowledged with a chuckle. "I don't think I will forget you, Hawke."

"I just have that kind of personality. Totally unforgettable." Hawke shrugged and leered. Arianna laughed again. She turned to leave.

"Wait." Alistair hesitated. He watched Hawke with curious eyes. "Why don't you come with us?"

"To kill an Archdemon, you mean? That's totally out of my league." Hawke's eyes were wide with surprise and dubiousness. Arianna was watching her with a shrewd gaze; she knew the answer, saw it in Hawke's eyes, she was sure. "I can't," Hawke admitted. "I have other... obligations." That was true- she had her family to take care of- but she also had an intense feeling- more like an urge- that her destiny was not to help the Warden. Considering this, she was hit with a dawning realization that she probably wouldn't be in Ferelden much longer, and she doubted if she would return any time soon. Alistair arched an eyebrow.

"More important than saving your country?" he asked. "You realize that the darkspawn will most likely come here next, right?"

"I'm aware of that," Hawke answered sourly.

"What if we invoke the Rite of Conscription?" he asked, his eyebrows still raised.

"You haven't the resources to force me to go through the Joining," she pointed out. "Besides, if you did, I think you'd find me most... disagreeable."

"Alistair, leave it," Arianna intervened softly, placing her hand on his arm for a fleeting moment before pulling it away. "It's not her destiny to come with us. She belongs somewhere else." Hawke blinked in surprise. Maybe she underestimated the Warden before. It seemed that she could read people almost as well as Hawke herself, unless she was an exceptionally good guesser. "Until next time, Hawke," she added. Alistair was watching her curiously, but he looked a little admiring, as well. Like a puppy.

"Take care," Hawke answered with a nod. Arianna turned and led her gang away, into the village and toward the tavern.

Hawke's mind churned with everything the Warden had said, but most especially what she'd left unsaid. She stood there for several moments, rooted into place by her thoughts. Then everything clicked into place, and she knew what to do. There was a faint roaring in her ears as she turned and darted to the Chantry. She headed immediately to the garden. It was empty, except for one red-headed Sister who knelt over a rose bush.

"Leliana!" Hawke called, her gaze glowing with excitement. She bounded impatiently on her heels.

"Rathina!" Leliana exclaimed, jumping to her feet, startled. "Can I help you?"

"No. It's the other way around, actually. You want to go on an adventure, right? Here's your chance." Hawke's eyes glittered. "I just ran into the Warden on her way into Lothering. They're headed to the tavern now."

"Loghain's soldiers are there," Leliana pointed out, but Rathina's euphoria was spreading, and her gaze widened with the exciting implications as she realized her friend's plan. They knew each other well, Hawke reflected.

"I know," Hawke answered, still jumping up and down with a wide grin. Leliana hesitated, conflict burning in her gaze. "Go on!" Hawke urged. "You can't ignore your calling! Go with her, and save Ferelden!"

"You're right." Leliana smiled, a mischievous, adventurous smile that Hawke had seen only rarely. "Thank you, Rathina." Hawke stopped bouncing on her heels and hesitated, her smile a little sad now. Ah, she was about to lose a very good friend, but her feelings weren't important to the rest of Ferelden, which was what Leliana fought for.

"Good bye, Leli, and good luck!" she responded, stepping forward and hugging her friend tightly. She had a nagging feeling they wouldn't see each other again for a while, and when they did, everything would be different. Her heart lurched with excitement and anticipation.

"Take care, Rathina," Leliana answered, her tone a little quieter. She hesitated before kissing Hawke gently on the cheek. "I shall see you again, I swear it!" she added as she pulled away and started for the tavern.

"Keep the Warden safe!" Hawke called after her teasingly. Leliana just waved.

Hawke turned and left the Chantry courtyard. She frowned as the roaring in her ears grew louder, into a familiar "ruk-ruk" sound. "Ah- _damn!_" she groaned. She glanced toward the Wilds, and sure enough, she saw the telltale shadows darting through the trees. She sprinted for her house.

"Darkspawn!"


	8. Like Mother, Like Daughter

_**Author's Note: **_

**H****ey again! As always, thanks to everyone who favorites or adds to Story Alerts, as well as my silent readers! You guys rock!**

**I always thought Hawke was a bit too complacent after Fenris left her. She does have an excellent poker face, but you can't really tell what she thinks about it beyond the two or three subsequent conversations with him. I wrote this about the internal pain she must have been suffering from afterward, as well as Leandra's attempts to comfort her. This story is kind of short, but it's more like a filler chapter while I write other stories. I'm thinking about doing a special one for Christmas... :p**

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><p><em>Well, I've been thinking about my mother lately, and one of the last conversations I ever had with her. After Fenris... left, I was rather distraught and uptight at home, even though I somehow managed to hide it from the others. Shocking, right? Anyhow, one day Mother walked in and helped me attempt to puzzle everything out. Which didn't exactly work, but she helped me put it into perspective. I never had a chance to thank her for everything she'd done for me, and the least I can do is preserve her memory...<em>

_-Hawke_

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><p><strong>Like Mother, Like Daughter<strong>

Hawke sat in her favorite armchair in the library, gazing into the fire with a troubled expression. Her thoughts roiled with questions, reflections, and, above all, a dominating feeling of horrible mental pain. Her hands trembled in her lap, and she could hear the blood roaring in her ears. She rather thought she might faint from the confusion in her mind. Her thoughts twisted in circles, all landing on the same question: _Why? _Why did he leave her alone in her bed that night?

Distracted as she was by trying to wrestle her thoughts into submission, she missed the light, feminine footsteps that entered the room.

"You are troubled, my daughter," Leandra observed as she approached the chair. Hawke started in surprise; before she realized who it was, she had leapt to her feet and spun around so her back was to the fire and she had drawn her daggers with one fluid movement. Her eyes were wide and frenzied, like a wildcat's. Leandra paused; she didn't exactly look scared, just a little startled and sorrowful. The wild glow slowly faded from Hawke's eyes, and she straightened, moving deliberately. Then a faint whimper rose from her chest and she collapsed in the armchair again.

"Dear Maker, Mother, I'm so sorry!" she whispered, trembling slightly. This time she was alert enough to hear her mother's soft footsteps as she crossed the floor and perched on the arm of the chair. Leandra wrapped her arms around Hawke's rather small shoulders, and Hawke obediently leaned into her mother's embrace.

"What is bothering you, love?" she asked softly.

"It's Fenris." Hawke sighed.

"Ah." Leandra didn't explain or press her for details, so Hawke figured that she'd guessed what had happened. They hadn't exactly been quiet that night, after all. She hesitated, then twisted around to see fury blazing in her mother's almond eyes. She flinched, blinking with surprise. Leandra saw and she smiled sadly, the anger dispersing quickly. "I'm sure he had his reasons for leaving you," she answered with soft apology in her tone. "He seemed like a fine gentleman when I met him."

"I think... I think he's confused. Or... maybe he's trying to protect me? I don't exactly know... I don't understand!" Hawke snapped, jumping to her feet again at her last sentence and breaking her mother's embrace. She paced back and forth above the fireplace, growling swears under her breath while that accursed statue from atop the fireplace frowned disapprovingly at her. She paused to glower up at it. "He hates that statue. He says it reminds him of Tevinter." She drew one of her daggers and pulled her arm back, eyeing it with a narrowed, calculating gaze. She whipped her arm forward and the dagger revolved once before it slammed into the statue, right where its eye was, burying itself hilt-deep in the wood. Undoubtedly there would be a nasty hole there now. _I guess__ nobody liked that statue anyway..._

She paused and ran a hand ruefully through her jet black hair before she continued pacing. She'd have to ask Sandal to get the dagger out for her. Or if he couldn't, maybe Merrill or Anders would. Well, maybe it was best not to get Anders just to get her dagger out of the statue, as Fenris would probably have a fit if the "abomination" came into her house. She chuckled wryly under her breath. _Note to self: next time I have a temper tantrum, make sure my daggers are out of reach._ Leandra watched her, love and sympathy burning in her gaze.

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" she asked. Hawke paused again, frowning at the rug as she thought. She noticed idly that she was wearing a depression into it, what with all the pacing she'd been doing lately. Grim amusement rose inside her at the thought, and she irritably repressed it.

"I don't have to. He doesn't _want _to talk about it," she answered at last. "He hasn't said anything, but I can tell. He's riddled with guilt, but his resolve is strong..."

Leandra watched, her eyes soft with sympathy.

"You seem to understand him well," she commented.

"About everything but this," she corrected her mother's statement. "He said he started to get his memory back... Is he scared to remember? I find that a little hard to believe." She scowled at the ground. Fenris, scared? That sounded absurd, impossible for even Hawke to imagine, as strange to think of as a Qunari chasing butterflies.

"You should try to speak with him anyway," Leandra suggested. "Silence is no way to run a relationship."

"I know," Hawke answered, running her hand through her hair and looking a little harassed. "I know," she repeated with a sigh. "But I don't want to push him. I... I can wait until he's ready to talk about it, or change his mind." _Not necessarily in that order. _"At any rate, I want him to have time to sort out his feelings. It was unusually rash of him, what he did that night."

"You must love him very much," her mother observed quietly, her eyes filled with respect and compassion for her daughter.

"I do," Hawke admitted, in no uncertain terms. Her icy gaze flashed with pride, and a small, sad smile spread across her lips. The sad smile was becoming all too frequent, but it was one of her few honest smiles. "And I think... no. I _know_ he loves me too. It's for my sake he's doing this, the crazy elf." A fond glow lit her eyes. She imagined his own small smirk that he reserved only for her, and her heart throbbed with yearning desire.

"I think it's the curse of Amell women to fall in love with the forbidden," Leandra commented with a light chuckle. Her gaze was shrewd as she inspected Hawke. She always had the feeling that her mother could see right through her, and she seemed to know all her deepest secrets.

"Ah, you have a point. Just my luck, right?" Hawke gave a bitter laugh. She turned to stare into the fire with another glazed, thoughtful expression, head tilted in thought. "I'll give him three years," she asserted. "If he hasn't changed his mind or anything by then, I'll broach the topic myself." She felt more relieved now that she'd reached a decision.

"Why three years?" her mother queried. Hawke turned and eyed her thoughtfully.

"It took three years before he decided to trust me enough," she answered finally. "Besides, what with everything that's going on now, I think I have other, slightly more important things to focus on besides my confusing relationship with Fenris. Hopefully by then those things will have sorted themselves out as well." She uttered another humorless laugh and continued pacing, muttering something under her breath about _"damn Qunari..." _She watched her mother ponder her words from the corner of her eye.

"That... makes sense," Leandra finally admitted. "What will you do if he stands by his decision?"

"Well..." Hawke paused, her shoulders slumping. Another wave of pain broke over her, and she shuddered at the thought. "I'll... cross that bridge if it comes to it."

"Do you think he'll come back to you?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have given him so long," Hawke answered with a shrug. "As it is, there's a slight chance." She turned to face her mother full-on, her expression narrowing slightly with curiosity. "How did you and Father deal with everything?"

"It was hard," her mother confessed. "But once we realized I was expecting-" her gaze twinkled at her daughter- "he pledged his love and support to me, and I agreed to run away with him."

"I can't imagine what that must have been like, leaving your whole family behind..." Hawke trailed off, turning to frown reflectively into the fire. She thought she could see herself doing that, but she couldn't imagine leaving her mother behind. Just thinking about it put a bleak pit in her stomach. She pushed the thought away. There was enough grief in her life without her imagining things like that anyway.

"We were young and completely infatuated with each other," Leandra chuckled. A shadow of grief flickered across her face. Hawke gave a small smile before striding over to her mother and embracing her.

"Thank you, Mother," she murmured. "I love you." She forced herself to push away the dreary thoughts and cheer up, if for nothing but her mother's sake. Then she pulled away and strode over to the doorway. "Sandal! I need your help, please!"


	9. Night Terrors part I

**_Author's Note:_**

**Hey guys! Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've been busy rehearsing my part in my dance studio's production of the Nutcracker, and this story turned out to be a bit longer than expected. I had to cut it into two parts xD. Anyway, I wrote this about the Night Terrors quest (shocking, right, cuz the chapter name doesn't give it away at all... :p). Again, I took some of Fenris's perspective for it, but a lot of this first part is Hawke's POV as well. I tried to step into Fenris's head more for this one, to try to make sense out of what he did. I suggest avoiding this one if you haven't done this quest yet :) As always, thanks for reading and please enjoy!**

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><p><em>So, I'm back again. Bethany's been getting concerned with the amount of time we've been putting into this "short" story here, but Fenris and I are both determined to fit in as<em> _many details as we can. Varric tends to sugarcoat this one a bit, and I have admit that entering the Fade and saving Feynriel was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. None of us really likes to think about it, but it's sort of a relief to write about this particular adventure._

_Anyway, we paired up again to write about the second time we helped the human-elf mage Feynriel. It was a very interesting experience, journeying through the Fade, and not one any of us is really willing to repeat. And, yet again, Fenris refuses to include his own introduction. Ah, well. Maybe next time!_

_-Hawke_

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><p><strong>Night Terriors (part I)<strong>

Hawke watched her friends with amusement. They were all crowded into her mansion, seated around her dinner table, diamondback cards in hand. She sat at one end of the table, Fenris to her left and Varric to her right. Merrill sat opposite her at the other end of the table. Aveline sat on Varric's other side, with Isabela in between her and Merrill. Next to Fenris sat Sebastian, with Anders on his left. All together, they made up her merry little band of misfits.

Her gaze flickered over to the only empty seat, in between Sebastian and Anders. By unspoken consent, they always left that seat open. She imagined that was where Bethany would have been sitting.

"Something wrong, Hawke?" Fenris asked her quietly. She raised a confused eyebrow. "You don't sigh like that very often," he answered her unspoken question. Oh. She hadn't realized she'd sighed aloud.

"I was just thinking about Bethany," she explained, her gaze sliding back over to the empty seat.

"Your sister sounds like a good woman. I wish I could have spoken with her more," Sebastian commented, evidently overhearing their words.

"I think she would have liked you," Hawke agreed heavily.

"Sunshine still sends you letters, doesn't she?" Varric asked. He'd always had a soft spot for Bethany. Then again, who hadn't? She was such an innocent, sweet little girl.

"Of course," Hawke answered. "She seems... well, not happy, but content."

"Maybe you should visit her," Varric remarked with an innocent expression. Hawke lifted her eyebrows, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Does the Circle even allow visitations?"

"Err..."

"Ah, maybe that can be our next adventure! A midnight break-in at the Circle of Magi!... Yeah, that'll go over well with the Knight-Commander, seeing as how she loves me so much already." The others laughed. Now just about everybody was paying attention, watching with shrewd eyes. There was a thoughtful silence for a moment before Anders broke it.

"I trust you didn't just gather us all here for a friendly visit, Hawke?" He looked sly, as if he already knew what she was planning. She firmly resisted squirming under his disturbingly intense gaze. Fenris always had an intensity about him, she reflected, but it was sweeter than the way Anders looked at her. With the mage... she wasn't sure. It made her uncomfortable. He seemed almost... possessive.

"Why would you think that?" she asked innocently. She set her cards down on the table, and the others followed her cue, if somewhat reluctantly. "Maybe I just wanted everyone over here to reconnect."

"If that was all, we would've met at the Hanged Man," Isabela pointed out, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Hawke. Out with it."

"Well... you guys all remember Feynriel, right? The kid we saved and sent to the Dalish a couple years ago..." Hawke began.

"How could we not? We were tracking him for days." Varric smirked as the others agreed somewhat wearily.

"Well, he needs our help again." They groaned theatrically, except for Sebastian, who looked a little confused, as he hadn't yet joined Hawke's band of misfits when they'd been tracking the mage. Merrill quickly explained the whole deal to him.

"You didn't send him to the Circle?" Sebastian asked once she was finished, turning to Hawke with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not his fault he has magic," Hawke pointed out, her icy gaze flashing protectively. Anders looked a little smug, she noticed with annoyance, and repressed the urge to smack the smirk off his face. She only really kept him along for the healing, and the occasional insight when they were dealing with mages, such as now. Which, unfortunately, happened all too often. "And anyway, the Dalish can teach him just as well as the Circle."

"Yes, especially considering that their First was a blood mage." Hawke decidedly ignored Fenris, but the others couldn't control themselves as well. Anders opened his mouth to retort hotly. Merrill looked stunned. Small arguments blossomed around the table over what they should have done with the poor lad.

"_Enough,_" growled Hawke after a few moments of this, her electric blue eyes narrowing to flints. Anders' mouth snapped shut and he glowered at her mutinously, but he didn't speak any more. The others immediately quieted. Hawke was a ferocious sight when her temper was sparked, especially considering her tendency to throw daggers at things when she got pissed off, which they had all learned by then. "I didn't ask for opinions on what we should have done," she went on more calmly. "What's done is done, and I can't change that now."

"What's wrong with him, then?" Fenris asked. She turned to him and searched his mossy eyes. He gazed back steadily, but she thought she caught a flash of regret. Her expression softened marginally when she turned back to look at the others.

"His mother wrote me a letter. Apparently he's been having these dreams-"

"That's not unusual for a mage," Anders interrupted, rolling his eyes. "She's probably overreacting." She frowned at him, and he subsided, again looking annoyed.

"I swear, I'm going to let my Mabari attack the next person who interrupts me," she complained, only half-teasing. Off to her left, Fenris made a strange coughing/choking sound, and she lifted an eyebrow at him. He blinked innocently at her. She struggled to hide a smile and the wave of pain that accompanied it as she went on. "So, anyway, apparently demons have been bothering him a lot in his dreams. He's gone into a nightmare and can't wake up, so Keeper Marethari is going to perform a ritual to allow a few people he trusts to enter the Fade and save him... Arianni wants me to enter the Fade, and I'll need help," she finished quietly. Her words were met by dead silence. She thought she could hear crickets chirping from somewhere outside.

She waited a heartbeat or two before she continued. "Now we can't all go- I only need about three other people- and I won't ask all of you." Her gaze swept over to Sebastian, whose gaze was narrowed warily. "I won't make you come," she told him, and he relaxed, relief and gratitude flashing through his own sky blue eyes.

"Thank you, Hawke," he murmured. "The Fade is no place for a man of faith."

"And I respect that," she answered with a small smile.

"I'm busy tomorrow, Hawke," Aveline informed her, sounding only slightly apologetic. "Training new recruits, I'm sure you understand." Hawke guessed that she didn't want to come into the Fade anyway. Personally, she was looking forward to it with a mixture of dread and excitement. Excitement because this was going to be a totally new experience for her and definitely out of the ordinary killing bandits and blood mages, but dread because she'd heard about the persuasive powers of the demons. She hoped that she would be able to withstand their tests, though with the Keeper's help it probably wouldn't be too big of a deal.

"Alright," Hawke agreed. "Take Fang with you, if you want, he's been wanting to get out and I can't take him in the Fade anyway."

"Thanks," Aveline answered with a grin.

"So, that leaves..." Hawke turned to look at the others who hadn't spoken up yet. Merrill was looking uncertain, and Isabela had a thoughtful expression. Varric looked doubtful- she could tell, just by his face, that he wasn't going. And Fenris looked passive, as always.

"I'm going," Anders declared. Hawke suppressed a sigh as she turned to look at him. "Justice can guide us through the Fade," he explained.

"That... could actually be very useful," she admitted. "Well, as long as he doesn't turn and attack us all." She eyed him warily.

"He won't," Anders told her confidently. She saw Fenris roll his eyes from her periphery.

"I'll go," Isabela volunteered, her gaze shimmering with excitement. "Sounds like fun!"

"Are you sure-" Anders began, but Hawke cut him off with another irritated scowl. Maker, how annoying he could be when it came to mages...

"Thanks, Isabela," Hawke said pointedly.

"You know I'm always happy to be at your service, Hawke," Isabela responded good-naturedly. Hawke rolled her eyes. Before she could retort, though, Fenris spoke up.

"I'm coming, too." His voice was firm, with no trace of uncertainty in it. Hawke blinked in surprise and turned to look at him curiously. He gazed back, his eyes, as before, steady and nearly unreadable. Anders opened his mouth to protest. Yet again, his protest was cut off- she guessed Isabela had stomped on his foot or something, judging by the withering glare he now shot at her.

And just like that, she had three companions to enter the Fade with her.

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><p>They spent the next few hours discussing what they were going to do as the sun set outside. Anders briefed them on what to expect in the Fade, which Hawke grudgingly found very helpful. Sebastian and Aveline left soon after Fenris decided he was coming, as they really had no reason to stay, and as Aveline insisted, "I need my wits about me with these recruits!" Merrill and Varric stayed a little longer, because Merrill also had some pointers about entering the Fade as well as speaking with Keeper Marethari, and Varric was adamant that Lowtown was too dangerous for her to wander around it at night, so he would walk her home. Eventually, even they left and it was just the four who were to enter the Fade left in Hawke's darkening dining room. The embers flickered sadly in the dying fire.<p>

"Remember that the demons are all very dangerous," Anders cautioned yet again. Hawke hoped he was almost finished with his lecture- she felt like a schoolchild again. She had all but quit paying attention when he said something new and depressing. "They will try to suck you in and make you waver by exploiting your weaknesses against you. I suggest you know what those are and be prepared beforehand, so the demons don't trick you into betraying us." They were all silent as they contemplated his foreboding words. Hawke wondered what her own weaknesses were. Bethany, she thought- she would do anything to rescue her sister from the Circle. And her mother- she was determined to protect her. _And Fenris._

"Well, on that happy note," she said at last, "you guys should go home and get some rest. I think we all need to have our wits about us tomorrow."

"Good point," Anders agreed, rising to his feet and stretching his cramped muscles.

"Meet me in the alienage tomorrow, around mid-morning," Hawke decided. "We'll meet the boy's mother and the Keeper there." She stood as well and led them to the door. She noticed Fenris hanging back a little and guessed that he wanted to talk to her.

"See you in the morning," Anders said, brushing past her and out into the dark night.

"Bright and early!" Hawke chirped with a chuckle. Isabela waltzed over to the doorway and paused, glancing back with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Good night, Hawke," she said pointedly, her gaze flickering over to the lanky elf. "You too, Fenris." She smirked and sauntered out, shutting the door discreetly behind her. Hawke flushed at her parting words and turned to Fenris.

"Why do you want to go with us tomorrow?" she asked without preamble. The question had been burning inside her all night, but she knew he didn't want the others to hear the answer. "You don't like mages, and you didn't agree with my decision to send Feynriel to the Dalish. Why do you want to help him now?"

"I don't." He hesitated. His gaze flickered to the ground before it rose up to meet hers again. She was stunned by the intensity she saw burning there. Her heart beat faster as he took a step closer to her.

"Why?" she breathed, unable to trust herself to say anything more.

"I..." He paused again- searching for the best, safest answer, she was sure. He lifted his gaze again to meet hers, and she saw resolve flicker through his gaze before he spoke again. "The Fade is a dangerous place, Hawke, and I'm not about to lose you to it... I want to protect you."

Her breath caught and she gazed up at him mutely. She couldn't have spoken even if she knew what to say. Icy blue met mossy green as their gazes locked again.

"I... should go," he murmured finally, turning away and running a hand through his shock of white hair. She felt a pang, but she knew she couldn't stop him now. _Next time, Rathina. You can wait. Don't push it._ She reminded herself fiercely of her resolution.

"Hey... Fenris?" He paused at the door and turned to look at her, arching a dark eyebrow. She always wondered at his eyebrows- they were brown, but his hair was white as snow. It added to his mysterious aura. Maybe his hair was brown before... "I can... swing by your mansion in the morning, and we can walk down to the alienage together, if you like. We'll have to stop at the barracks to drop Fang off for Aveline, but it should be quick."

"Alright," he agreed almost immediately. She hid a small smile when she realized how quickly he'd agreed to her suggestion, without really considering it. He trusted her, she reflected, but not as much as she wished he did.

"I'll see you in the morning, then," she answered with faint amusement. "Sleep well!" She could picture him rolling his eyes as he stepped outside and shut the door. She locked it and returned to the main hall. She crossed her arms. As he'd left, she felt as if a part of her was tearing away, and it would only come back when he was nearby. She considered their conversation and the ghost of her heart throbbed painfully. He left her- why did he still want to protect her?

"_Dammit,_ Fenris!" she snapped at the empty room. She wasn't sure where their relationship stood, but she was positive that they weren't "just" friends anymore, and it bothered her. Yet again, she found herself seeing a dagger hurtling through the air, cast from her own arm, to bury itself in the door to her room. All emotion seemed to drain out of her at the sight of that quivering dagger, and her shoulders sagged wearily. She trudged up the stairs, feeling dragged down from the weight of her thoughts, and yanked the dagger out of her door before she slid into bed.

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><p>Fenris hardly slept at all that night.<p>

Despite Hawke's demand that he "sleep well," he seemed unable to force himself to close his eyes and sink into the blissful realm of dreams. He lay on the bed that didn't really belong to him for an hour or two before finally deciding it was too much, and lurched to his feet and paced around the house. Maker, _why_ did he say that to her? He was probably just going to get her hopes up again, and he didn't want to see that look of intense pain that occasionally flickered across her features directed at him- again.

He turned to the wall and kicked it furiously, pulling his toes back to avoid breaking them against it. The impact jarred his foot, and he felt some savage pleasure, as if kicking the wall would somehow redeem himself.

What a foolish notion.

He turned and dropped into his favorite armchair, staring at the dark fireplace. He loved Hawke, yes- warmth spread through him at the thought, and the smallest smile crossed his features as he imagined the way her eyes danced when they landed on him, the crooked grin she reserved only for him, the way she ducked and weaved around him when they fought together as a team...

She deserved better.

Bitterness surged through him when he realized that he could never be there for her like a normal man. He could not escape the (now mental) chains of slavery until Danarius was dead. Until that day, a part of him would always be off to the side, seething with bloodlust and revenge, held in check only by sheer willpower, like a dam, and he feared the dam breaking. Even from hundreds of miles away, the damned magister had a hold over him that neither he himself nor Hawke could truly understand, but which Danarius always exploited. Danarius was a danger, he decided, sitting there in his chair, that he could not expose Hawke to. If- when- the magister found him, he would realize the extent of the relationship between his former slave and Hawke, and use it to bend Fenris to his will.

Better to break the relationship off, in its early stages, before it could come to that; he could never survive with himself if Hawke was injured or killed because of him. Better, then, to live through the pain they both felt because of his rejection and with the knowledge that she was still alive, than to live as either a free man or a slave and know she was dead.

So why didn't he leave Kirkwall? Trick Danarius into following him elsewhere.

It made the most sense. To avoid Danarius getting to her, leave her behind and go off on his own again. She'd have a better chance of survival.

But then, Danarius would find her and torture her either to get information or just to bait Fenris into coming back..

No, Fenris decided, it was best to stay in Kirkwall and protect her, even with the threat of Danarius. He would kill the magister if he returned. But he knew his decision was based off more selfish reasoning than anything- he didn't want to be away from her. He _couldn't _stay away from her.

_That_ was his greatest weakness.

So decided, he slipped back into his bed and fell asleep. He slept better for those few hours than he had in a long time. To his immense relief, he didn't dream that night.

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><p>An impatient rapping sound intruded on his sleep. He growled to himself and was tempted to roll over and fall back asleep, but he knew Danarius would strike him if he arrived late. <em>Just a few more minutes... <em>his rebellious nature insisted.

Just then, the rapping ceased and a voice sang out, yet again invading his sluggish thoughts. But this sound was more pleasant than the knocking.

"Fenris! Come on, sleepyhead, we have the Fade to traverse and a little elf lad to save!" The voice seemed to ring out more closely with every word, as if the owner of it was moving closer.

With a start, Fenris rolled to his feet and instinctively grasped for his sword. He blinked and saw Hawke standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised. Her blue eyes pierced his sleepy green ones with amusement- unafraid, despite the sword in his hands.

"Sleeping in?" she teased. "Come on, get dressed. I'll wait over there." She turned and walked away. Chagrined, Fenris quickly strapped on his armor and grabbed his sword. He slipped it into its sheath on his back and stepped out of the bedroom, glancing around for Hawke.

She stood gazing at his wall, her back to him. She had lit the embers in the fire from the previous night, and a small fire flickered there. Her shoulder-length black hair gleamed. She must have heard his armor rustling, for she turned to face him. There was a sad smile on her features that didn't quite reach her eyes, which sparkled somewhat more than usual with the same depression; she gazed past him, off into some place that he couldn't see. Her overall expression was troubling. It disappeared almost as soon as her gaze focused on him, though, to be replaced by another of her sarcastic smirks.

"Did you... ah..." She paused, turning again to the wall, and the smile slipped into a frown. "Got upset at the wall again, eh? Those poor wine bottles don't deserve such treatment, you know."

"Don't we have somewhere to go?" Fenris asked, some acid tinging his voice.

"Yep," Hawke answered, seeming unfazed by his harsh tone. She spun away from the wall and darted to the door. Her Mabari appeared, seemingly out of nowhere- _damn, how does that thing do that?_- to bounce around eagerly at her side. She tossed another smirk over her shoulder at the elf as she swung the door open and restrained the dog from bounding off with a sharp word. Fenris didn't move, rooted in place, momentarily stunned by the force of the effect her grin had on him.

"Coming?" she called cheerfully over her shoulder, and he realized with a start that she was already halfway across the square outside his house. Cursing himself- and Hawke- for his momentary lapse of attention, he strode after her.


	10. Interlude: Glimpse of the Future

_**Author's Note:**_

**I decided to take a bit of a break from finishing and publishing the second part of Night Terrors. I'm writing a holiday story instead, and I don't plan to have that up until later in the week. So, until then, I posted this story. I've been thinking of writing a real story about what happens to Hawke after she left Kirkwall, and I had this scene stuck in my head for a long time, so finally I had to type it up. I want to know what you guys think, if I should go on with writing it. This will not be at the beginning of the story if I do write it, by the way, it will probably be a couple chapters in at least, and I'll definitely refine it a bit more. Kind of a preview, if you get my meaning. Anyways, please tell me what you think, and if ya'll like it I might write an actual story, with chapters and everything :p**

* * *

><p>She awoke screaming to the night. Again. Shadowy figures floated across her wavering vision. She gritted her teeth and forced herself fully awake, and the figures disappeared. The arms around her tightened, and she heard murmured reassurances in her ear. She trembled and cold sweat slicked her skin. Her breathing was loud and fast in the quiet tent.<p>

Determined to distance herself from her nightmares, Hawke snuggled closer to Fenris, still shuddering, wracked with terror. He held her close, kissing her forehead tenderly. They lay like that for several minutes, while she attempted to get her labored breathing under control. The dead, eerie silence of the night outside fell on her ears. Deciding to break the silence, she found her voice and spoke aloud. It sounded unnaturally loud in the pitch-black tent, but she doubted that Bethany, who was now sitting outside keeping watch, could hear anything except her screams, as it was the time of night where everything was asleep, just a couple hours away from dawn. By this point the others were pretty much deaf to her midnight terrors, or at least they could tune it out better. She hoped she hadn't woken them up again.

"Have you remembered anything yet?" she asked softly, as she did every night. He had told her about the flashbacks he'd been getting lately, but as of yet he had been unable to clearly recall any of them. Her voice dragged and quivered with the pathetic exhaustion of several sleepless nights. In it was a silent plea: _Don't let me think of the nightmares._

"As a matter of fact, I have," he answered just as quietly. She could hear his concern for her in his voice, but he couldn't hide his pleasure and his sadness at finally remembering something. And, by now, he knew that it was better not to ask about her nightmares; when he did, she went inexplicably hysterical, despite both their best efforts- they'd decided it was best for her to just try to forget them. He deliberately paused now, and she shifted impatiently at being left hanging, holding her breath with anticipation. His chest rumbled underneath her head as he chuckled with amusement at her restless impatience.

"Well, what did you remember?" she demanded once she was sure he wasn't going to elaborate until she asked. She couldn't repress a quiet, slightly delirious giggle, despite herself; Fenris's laughter was infectious.

"Vague flashes of memories. I can remember some of the more important ones, but even those are fuzzy. Mostly emotions, though." His tone was a little wistful now.

"Anything in particular?" she wanted to know. He hesitated- arranging his thoughts, probably. She fidgeted. Her nightmares were like a fever; if she didn't distract herself, she would invariably succumb to them.

"Varania didn't lie to us," he said at last. "My name was Leto. I think in my dream- flashback- I was around fourteen. We were all slaves for some magister- I can't remember his name, as I didn't go to Danarius until after I got my markings, and he didn't seem very important to me at the time anyway. We rarely saw him.

"My father used to teach me how to fight with a sharpened stick, since slaves aren't allowed to own weapons. I think I respected him and I was very fond of him. He was very adept with the sword. He had been a Dalish elf before he became a slave, which is where he learned to fight. if I remember correctly.. Anyway, one day somebody caught us sparring with the fake swords and told the magister. I was lashed, but I was allowed to live, because at the time I was young and strong and they needed my strength- to move heavy things, I think. My father, though... they beat him to death."

"Oh, Fenris," she breathed, "I'm so sorry..." He shrugged, and she could practically feel his bitterness. She shivered, and her eyes slid shut momentarily before she forced them open again. If she slept, she knew she would dream.

"I was left to take care of my mother and my sister," he went on quietly, "but I get the feeling that I didn't take good care of them for a while after my father died. I guess I went into a sort of... trance. I missed my father so much, I sort of lost it... I don't think I spoke much, but if I did, I wound up snapping at whoever was nearest. I did continue practicing sword-fighting in secret, though."

"Maker, that's horrible... If I could, I would go to Tevinter and kill all the magisters myself for owning slaves and treating them like that," she growled venomously. She twisted a little to look at his face, but even the mighty Hawke couldn't see well in the dark. His mossy green eyes glittered a little, though, and she could see an amused quirk to his eyebrow.

"You're in no condition to be fighting magisters right now," he pointed out, and she scowled at him. He grew more serious and thoughtful a moment later. "But I would be right at your side," he agreed. "The magisters don't deserve to live."

"I'll bet that's where all the blood mages get their ideas from..." Hawke glowered. She heard the slightest intake of breath, and she suddenly realized that she was digging her fingers into his arm. "Sorry, sorry!" she breathed, burying her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "So... ahh... could you remember his name?" she asked, still struggling to distance herself from her nightmares. He rubbed her back, and she could practically feel the helplessness radiating from his body. Her dreams were terrible; in the light of day, she was able to almost forget them, but at night they overtook her to the point where she could barely sleep, but she was so tired that they threatened to haunt her anyway in her weakened state. _Is this what Feynriel felt like?_ she wondered briefly. He was a mage and a dreamer, though, so he could control his dreams better. Well, as far as Merrill and Bethany could figure (without the use of blood magic), she wasn't being haunted by demons, at least.

"It started with an 'A'... Airam?* Alain?" He frowned, then sighed. "I can't remember."

"Hopefully it'll come to you soon," she murmured. Her eyes fluttered shut again, then she flinched and grabbed his arm again, her eyelids flying open and her sensual blue eyes filled with terror. "Don't let me sleep," she whispered, her voice cracking with fear. He gritted his teeth; he hated with a passion whatever it was that kept her from getting the sleep she so deserved and ground her down to the helpless creature that now shivered in his arms.

"I won't," he promised.

"What... what did you look like?" she questioned wearily. By then she was so exhausted it was all she could do to focus on his words, and her mind wandered in different directions anyway. _Like a drunk,_ she thought savagely.

"How do you mean?"

In answer, she turned her face up to his again and reached up, stroking his shock of white hair before sliding her hand down to his cheek and letting it rest there. Her usually brilliant blue eyes- dull from fatigue- were filled with love. He gazed back into her eyes while he thought.

"My hair was a light bronze color," he recalled. "It had streaks of red that kind of glowed in the sunlight."

"So _that's_ why your brow is brown," Hawke chuckled unsteadily, raising her arm to stroke his eyebrow. He snickered against her wrist and went on.

"My eyes have always been this light green color, I think, and my skin was a little paler than it was in Seheron with the Fog Warriors..."

"That makes sense, I guess," she responded with the slightest frown tugging at her lips. She shuddered again. It was cool outside, but not that cold; it was her mind that caused her chills. He stroked her hair again and she sighed quietly, muscles reluctantly relaxing.

Suddenly Fenris was waylaid by another memory. The memory had been one of the vague flashes, but now it struck him full-force and he was dropped back in time.

* * *

><p><em>Leto was seven years old. He huddled in his little cot while the storm raged outside, shaking the walls of the flimsy hut. It was small, only one room; it barely deserved to be called a hut, even.<em> _Beside him, Varania was sound asleep. His father was perched on the single stool they had; his elbows were propped on his knees, and his chin rested on his hands as he gazed unseeingly at the wall. His hair was a dirty blonde color, streaked with gray, and Leto was surprised to see how exhausted her looked. Mother was just finishing cleaning the clay dishes from their meager dinner. She glanced over at the bed to see Leto watching her with his huge, green eyes. She set the dishes down and glided silently over to him._

"_Is something wrong, my dear Leto?" she whispered, kneeling down beside the cot and gazing into his eyes with an expression of such extreme compassion Leto thought his heart would burst._

"_The storm is scary," he whimpered. She smiled; it was a slow, rather sad smile, but it lifted his heart like the sun breaking over the horizon and casting its pink-red rays over the city in the early morning._

"_Nature is nothing to fear," she murmured, lifting her hand to brush across his forehead and his magnificent bronze hair, which matched her own hair color almost exactly to the strand. "It shapes the world to make us what we are now. Listen to the thunder, and you can hear the gods communicating." Leto shuddered at the sound of another, louder thunderclap._

"_I can't sleep," he complained. He needed his strength for the work he had to do the next day. Mother seemed to ponder this a moment before nodding thoughtfully._

"_Would you like me to sing a lullaby?" she offered. He nodded vigorously. She smiled, pleased, and started to sing. __Her voice was beautiful and clear, like ringing bells on a fine spring morning. It told stories of beauty and other wondrous things, most of which Leto couldn't understand, but he loved listening to her voice._

_Leto was sound asleep before the song had even ended._

* * *

><p>"Fenris?" Hawke queried, her tone slurred. He saw her ice blue eyes contract with worry and fear. He stiffened.<p>

"What's wrong?" he demanded quietly.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep or s...something." A yawn broke her sentence. He relaxed and tightened his arms around her again.

"Nope, still awake. I'll let you know before I do that," he tried to assure her teasingly, but he could tell that her mind wandered again. Her blue eyes drifted out of focus and her eyelids inched closer before she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay awake. Her fingers dug into his arm again, but this time he kept from hissing in pain. Her gaze drifted up to meet his.

"Was it a f...flashback?" She stuttered from exhaustion. She shivered again, and he held her closer.

"It was, in fact." He described the scene to her, and she listened as well as she could; the expression in her eyes told him that she still wasn't entirely focused. There was silence for a moment when he finished as she digested his words.

"Sh-she sang to you? How s-sweet..." Hawke yawned. Sadness flickered across her expression, more pronounced than usual. Fenris reflected that this was usually how she would act when she was intoxicated. Which she almost was, in a sense. "My mother used to sing to me," she went on in a more coherent tone of voice. "When I was little, right before bed. She had a beautiful voice." She sighed wistfully. She gave him a sideways glance, and he uttered a long-suffering sigh. That glance never meant anything good, even when she lay weak and half-asleep on his bare chest. "Do... d'you remember the song she sang?"

"I... yes." He couldn't lie to her, even though he had a sneaking feeling what her next words would be.

"I've never heard you sing before," she commented with a wicked gleam flashing across her dull gaze, effective even as fatigue threatened to creep over her. Her eyelids fluttered alluringly, and he stifled another sigh.

"Singing isn't a usual hobby of mine. I'll leave that for 'Choir Boy.'" He lifted an eyebrow at her. Her eyes widened pleadingly.

"Please, Fenris," she begged, desperation sinking into her voice. "I can't mirror your puppy eyes, but just... try. For me. Maybe it will help."

"Only if you promise to buy sleeping potions once we get to Starkhaven," he warned.

"Of course..."

"Fine." _Maker, I can't believe she just convinced me to do this. Well, if it helps..._

"Just remember I love you, Fenris," she purred. He kissed her forehead again, stroking her black hair softly as he thought. Then he opened his mouth and sang quietly to her in that sexy baritone voice of his.

That was the first night she slept without screaming from nightmares in a long time.

* * *

><p>*Airam Surana is the main character in Ventisquear's story <em>Failed to Fail.<em> I highly suggest you check it out if you're a fan of Zevran ^_^


	11. Winter Solstice

_**Author's Note:**_

**Hi again. I am soooo sorry that I didn't get this up here before, I didn't realize how busy I was going to be over the holidays (plus I'm a really big procrastinator, if you haven't figured that out yet...) I was originally hoping to have it up by Christmas, which obviously didn't work out xD. Well, I guess I can say "Happy New Years". I'm working on the second part of the Night Terrors story now, with any luck it'll be up within the next two weeks. I hope you guys had an excellent Christmas (I did- I got _Dragon Age: Asunder_ and it is awesome!) and a grand welcome to the new year :D**

**By the way, this takes place somewhere between Best Served Cold and The Last Straw. Some of the dialogue at the end is borrowed from the game and altered slightly to suit the story.**

* * *

><p><em>Hey, look, it's snowing outside...<em>

_Well, today is Winter Solstice, and I'm bored as hell. We can't exactly go outside to enjoy the snow like those idiot kids out there for fear of being caught, but I still wish we could. I'm positively itching to go outside. Maybe we can go tonight, after it gets dark and everybody's asleep. I haven't been the best sleeper as of late anyway._

_Since it's Winter Solstice and I have nothing better to do, I've written another story. This one isn't exceptionally important to my life story, but it's fairly significant to me. This is about the last Winter Solstice I shared with my band of misfits, just before Anders blew up the Chantry and Knight-Commander Meredith completely lost it. Ah, memories..._

_~Hawke_

* * *

><p>Hawke and Co. were gathered in her dining room yet again, but this time it was for a celebration.<p>

Outside, snow blanketed the streets and the roofs and windows. Few people meandered around out there, but the ones who did were red-faced and cheerful with holiday spirit.

Hawke tore her gaze away from the window, a slight smile playing on her lips. She registered the slightly prickling feeling of being watched, and she glanced sideways. Fenris was gazing at her curiously. She smirked at him, and his green eyes lit up almost imperceptibly.

She turned and surveyed the rest of the table. Everybody was in animated conversations, all slightly tipsy from the wine, except Donnic, who'd come with Aveline, and Sebastian- of course. Varric and Isabela were discussing some guy they'd seen at the Hanged Man the previous day with Anders listening, Fenris, Aveline and Donnic were discussing sword tactics, and Sebastian was telling Merrill about the Chant of Light, the little elven girl listening with wide eyes. None of them knew it would be the last time they would sit together and enjoy a merry meal.

"Hey guys," Hawke interrupted, and they all turned to face her. Her blue eyes twinkled maliciously.

"Oh, no," Varric groaned. "You have that look on your face again."

"What?" Hawke asked innocently. "I was just going to suggest a snowball fight." Isabela whooped and grabbed Merrill's hand, tugging her to her feet and dragging her to the door. Merrill, in turn, lashed out and grabbed Varric, dragging her out behind them. Out of the corner of her eye, Hawke saw Fenris lift an eyebrow, and she sniggered, covering her mouth and passing it off as a violent coughing fit. Aveline rolled her eyes at Hawke, but she stood up and headed outside with Donnic.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Fenris murmured to Hawke as the others went on outside.

"Not at all," Hawke giggled. "Come on!" Fenris rolled his eyes, but he chuckled and rose to his feet. She reached out and gently took his hand, leading him outside.

The others had already divided themselves into two teams. They'd agreed on the men against the girls. She could already see Varric taking bets on exactly how long it would be before the teams disintegrated entirely and it turned into a free-for-all, which she doubted would take very long. Hawke paused on her doorstep and gave Fenris a quick kiss on the cheek- to several catcalls and one wolf-whistle- before she darted down to stand at Isabela's side.

"Kinky," Isabela chuckled in her ear.

"You're one to talk, whore," Aveline retorted, grinning. Isabela scooped up a ball of snow and threw it at Aveline, who dodged, snickering.

"Hey, cut it out," Hawke warned, but she was smirking, too. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw somebody handing Varric a few silvers. "No fighting amongst your teammates!" Suddenly a hard ball of snow hit her in the side of the head, and she whirled around, glowering. Anders was sniggering and even Sebastian was chuckling quietly, but Varric was whistling innocently. He met Hawke's gaze and leered.

"Oh, that's it," Hawke growled teasingly, scooping up her own snowball and chucking it at Varric, who snickered and ducked. A snowball from Hawke's right sailed forward and unerringly hit Varric square in the face. She glanced over and saw Merrill with a concentrated look on her face as she threw another one straight at Anders, who blocked it with magic. It drew to a total standstill, and then Anders thrust his arms forward and it flew back over to hit Aveline. After a few minutes, Hawke realized that she didn't know where Fenris was, and indeed, Isabela was missing, too. She felt one collide with her back and whirled around, her eyes locking with Fenris's amused leafy green gaze. Behind her, she recognized Sebastian's Starkhaven accent as he yelled in annoyance, and she guessed that Isabela had been found. She glowered teasingly at Fenris, who just smirked at her.

"That's cheating," she complained, distracting him with words as she slunk forward a few steps.

"How so?" he asked, grinning.

With the blinding speed of a rogue, she dropped to her knee and scooped up another snowball, flinging it at his head so fast that even the elf couldn't dodge. It hit him in the side of the head, showering his already shockingly white hair with snow flecks. She giggled at his startled expression and took a few steps forward for better aim, snatching up more snow as she moved. He threw another snowball, but this time aimed at her head. She ducked, but not fast enough; it hit her forehead and her own jet black hair was sprinkled with snow. She blinked it out of her eyes to see him laughing at her. She glared at him through the lock of hair that flopped across her eyes, dislodged by the snow.

"Hawke!" She spun around to see who had called her name, just in time to see Isabela hurl a ball of snow at her. She ducked, and the snowball flew over her head. She heard a slight whoosh of air, and guessed that the snowball hit Fenris, although it sounded a lot closer behind her than it should have. Isabela winked and danced away, exchanging fire- snow?- with Anders. Hawke grinned back and jumped up, glancing back at him. With a start, she stumbled back; he was standing right behind her. She saw the intent in his eyes before she found herself in his arms, her lips pressed against his.

"Cheater," she murmured against his lips, pulling away briefly before kissing him again. He just chuckled.

"Get a room!" Varric shouted at them, and Hawke giggled, shoving Fenris off of her. As she did so, she saw a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, and he stumbled sideways, snow coating the side of his clothing. Hawke flashed a thumbs-up at Isabela, who stood several yards off, and darted away, still giggling. Isabela slunk back into the shadows, snickering too.

* * *

><p>Several hours later the whole gang staggered back inside, shivering and laughing. After a few minutes of snow wars with teams, the whole thing did indeed dissipate to every-man-for-himself when Isabela threw a snowball at Merrill. At that point, Hawke and Fenris paired up, and they worked as well together as they did in battle.<p>

"To Hawke and an excellent snowball war," Varric chuckled, lifting his wine glass. Hawke guessed that he'd won all his bets.

"Aw, you flatter me," Hawke teased, her eyes widening with fake modesty.

"To Hawke!" Merrill chirped, her eyes shining brighter than usual as she downed her glass.

"I have presents for you guys," Hawke announced once everyone had toasted her.

"We all brought presents for you, too," Aveline answered, eyes twinkling, gesturing to the others.

"Well, you guys can have mine first, as I'm the hostess," Hawke retorted, grinning. She called Bodahn over and whispered a few words in his ear. He listened, then smiled, nodded, and strode out of the room. He returned a moment later with Sandal; both dwarfs carried thin, silk-covered rectangular packages, all different colors and all the same size. Hawke accepted them with an excited grin. She sifted through the gifts and selected one with forest green colored silk. She handed it to Merrill, whose eyes brightened eagerly, and cautioned her not to open it until the others got their presents from her. She gave the presents to the others in a similar manner, using the silks as a color code. Varric got brown silk, Sebastian was given the white one, Anders got a midnight blue color, Isabela's was a deep violet, Aveline's was a shimmering gold color, and Fenris received the gift wrapped with red silk. She handed him his present last; their eyes met, both glittering with amusement.

"Okay, guys," Hawke said cheerfully, "happy Winter Solstice! Go ahead and open them, but don't tear the silk, you can probably use it for something later." The others chuckled at this and gently pulled aside the silk wrapping. There was a moment of stunned silence as they stared at their gifts. Hawke's grin grew even wider.

"Oh, Maker's breath, Hawke," Aveline breathed, setting her silk aside. Her emerald eyes were wide and full of awe. "Whenever did you find the time to get these made?"

"I made them all myself," Hawke answered, gaze twinkling. "If you don't believe me, ask Fenris. He watched me do most of them them. Stayed up several nights in a row working on them."

"I didn't know you could paint!" Merrill exclaimed.

"It's Hawke, she can do just about everything," Varric pointed out with a chuckle, eying the gift with pleasure and some surprise.

The newly unwrapped gifts were all portraits of her friends on the battlefield. She had tried her best to capture the different aspects of their personalities in each picture by their battle stances and their expressions, and judging by their reactions she had done well. They all praised her for excellent handiwork; she accepted their compliments awkwardly, as she was never good at dealing with gratitude.

"Oh, this will look beautiful on my wall," Merrill gushed, gazing wide-eyed at the picture of her in a defensive position, lightning crackling out of her staff toward some unseen attacker.

"Would you mind if I hung this in the barracks?" Aveline inquired, lifting her own portrait. Hawke had depicted her with her shield held up and her sword pulled back against her side, as if she was preparing to stab her own attacker, her eyes narrowed with focus.

"They're yours now," Hawke responded, grinning. "Do whatever you like with them. Although, I'd appreciate it if you don't throw them out. I did work very hard on those."

"Thank you, Hawke," Sebastian said seriously. She blushed a little.

"Aw, it was nothing," she insisted with a half-shrug.

"Well, Hawke, now that you've outdone everybody else," Isabela began, her gaze glittering teasingly, "we have our own gifts to give."

* * *

><p>So, by the end of the night, everyone had exchanged gifts enthusiastically, leaving her wondering how all that crap had been carried over to her house. She ended up receiving yet another manifesto from Anders, a brand new set of leather armor from Aveline and Donnic (as her old armor was getting worn), a journal published by an Orlesian traveler from Sebastian (which looked interesting enough), a Dalish ring from Merrill with a wolf carved onto it ("It's our god Fen'Harel," Merrill had explained excitedly. "I thought it would remind you of Fenris. It's inscribed with protective glyphs, too, so he doesn't have to worry when he's not with you!"), a form-fitting, icy blue dress from Isabela, who staunchly refused to explain where she got it, and a thin, finely decorated book from Varric. The cover was leather, and a flower was engraved on the front, but there were no words on the leather. The flower took up most of the front cover; she ran her fingers over it wonderingly.<p>

"Is that a... lily?" she asked, eyes wide.

"It is," Varric answered, smirking, "but you should see what's _inside_ the book."

"Oh. Right." She caressed the leather one last time before she opened the book.

The first page was completely blank except for a few words in the middle of the page, written in flowing handwriting- _there_ was the title. She leaned a little closer to decipher the words, as her vision swam a little with the effects of alcohol. It read _Rise of the Champion: Hawke's Defeat of the Qunari in Kirkwall. _

"Wow," Hawke breathed, turning the page. It was filled with more of the graceful handwriting, as well as ivy vines curling around the edges of the paper. She was only vaguely aware of the others peering at it over her shoulder. "Varric, did you write this?"

"I did," he answered proudly.

"Maker, this is beautiful..." She smiled and shut the book gently. "Thank you."

"Ah, it was nothing," Varric responded affably. "I hope you enjoy it."

"Oh, I'm sure I will!" Hawke chuckled. She set it down on the table and glanced up at the clock in the corner of her dining room. "Oh, dear me, look at the time," she sighed.

"It's late, isn't it?" Merrill agreed, yawning. "I think I'm going to go home, I'm really tired. Thanks for the party and the picture, Hawke!"

"Anytime, Merrill," Hawke replied with a grin. The little elf girl hugged her before she headed for the door, staggering confusedly.

"Daisy, wait up, I'll walk you home!" Varric called after her. He clapped Hawke on the shoulder, grinning. "We should do this more often," he laughed.

"Oh, definitely!" she agreed, snickering. "See you tomorrow, Varric." He exchanged a nod with Fenris and said goodbye to the others before they left, Varric supporting Merrill as she tried unsuccessfully to keep from tripping over her feet.

"Donnic and I are headed home as well," Aveline added, walking up to Hawke with a slight smile. Next to them, Donnic walked over to Fenris and they started to speak quietly with each other, to Hawke's amusement. "We'll see you around, Hawke." She paused, the smile slipping from her features and leaned forward, lowering her voice. "You need to be more careful. The Knight-Commander is getting angry and cracking down harder than ever. There's too much tension, Hawke. Something is going to snap, and it's going to happen soon." Hawke's own smirk disappeared, as if wiped from her face.

"I know," she sighed. "Good night, Aveline- you too, Donnic." Donnic, having returned to his position next to his wife, nodded back to her. Aveline smiled again and took his hand, leading him out of the house.

"What were you and Donnic talking about?" Hawke asked casually, turning to Fenris. He'd been rather quiet all evening after the snowball fight, although he had never been the talkative type. Now a smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

"The game of diamondback we played last week," he answered. She chuckled.

"Who won?" she asked, lowering her voice to a sensual purr. She wound her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest. He chuckled quietly.

"Can't you guys wait until we leave?" Anders complained, wandering up to them.

"Ah, I'm not complaining," Isabela retorted, her gaze glittering. Hawke rolled her eyes, but she disentangled herself from Fenris.

"Thanks for dinner, Hawke," Sebastian said graciously, smirking despite himself.

"Anytime, Sebastian," Hawke replied, grinning too. "I'll see you later. Thanks for the book, by the way."

"It was nothing," he answered modestly. "Good night, Fenris."

"You too, Sebastian." The Prince of Starkhaven left as well, followed by Anders. Hawke saw Fenris relax visibly from the corner of her eye and imagined what he was thinking. Probably something along the lines of, _Good, the damn abomination is finally gone._

"You did well on the paintings, Hawke," Isabela praised her, leering.

"Why, thank you," Hawke answered, smirking. "I am glad you like them! I put a lot of time and effort into making them."

"I'm sure you did," Isabela chuckled. "See you tomorrow, Hawke." Her gaze shifted over to Fenris, twinkling mischievously. "You too, Fenris." The lean elf just rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for the dress," Hawke added as Isabela made her way to the door. Isabela just snickered and waved as she let herself out.

"I can't wait to see you wear it," Fenris remarked in her ear. Hawke grinned, realizing that he'd crept up behind her again.

"Hmm. I'll try it on and show it to you... later." She turned to find Fenris standing less than a foot away from her, a slight smile relaxing his features. She lifted her hand and brushed it tenderly along his cheek before stopping it at his neck. She leaned in and pressed her mouth to his. He responded in kind, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer, causing her to rise up on her tiptoes.

With a regretful sigh, she pulled away a moment later.

"I have something for you," he told her, before she could speak. She detected nervous excitement in his mossy green eyes, and she couldn't blame him, as she herself felt the same thing.

"I do, too. For you, I mean." She blushed a little at her awkwardness. "It's upstairs, though, so why don't you go first?"

"Alright." As he turned to rummage through his bags, she reflected that it was a good thing Isabela was gone; she undoubtedly would've found something dirty in her words.

Fenris turned back to her, holding a little dark violet pouch in his hands. He handed it to her wordlessly. She accepted it, running her hands over the smooth velvet. She lifted her gaze, watching him with wide, curious eyes. He smiled and gestured for her to open it. She gently opened the bag and turned it over, spilling the contents into her hand. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and realized it was her own.

It was a beautiful necklace. The chain was long and silver, glinting with the light of the dying embers in the fire. A teardrop-shaped sapphire pendant dangled from it as she lifted it up to get a better look. The sapphire was a deep, light blue color; she had to gape at the shocking beauty of it all. She lifted a wondering gaze to meet Fenris's own nervous eyes.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you." He smiled with relief.

"I picked it out because it matches your eyes," he told her, and she realized with a start that it was almost the exact same shade as her own icy eyes. "I'll put it on for you," he offered. She smiled gratefully and turned away from him, holding up the necklace. He took it and deftly clasped it behind her neck. She giggled and shivered with pleasure when he placed his hands on her shoulders and brushed his lips against her neck. She lifted her hand and gently intertwined her fingers with his, glad that he'd finally taken his gauntlets off.

"Come on, I'll give you your present now," she said, grinning nervously as she tugged him up the stairs to her bedroom by his hand. He chuckled, allowing her to lead him on. She led him inside and shut the door behind them. She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it before she let it go and backed away.

"Shut your eyes," she whispered, her own eyes glowing, her whisper a caress. He complied, and she grinned, elated. It had taken her a long time to get him to trust her, and only recently had he begun trusting her so completely. She irritably scrubbed her eyes and shook her head, turning to her closet. She reached inside and pulled out a large sword. It was heavy but well-balanced, although that wasn't why she'd chosen it to give to him. She walked back to him and placed the hilt in his hands, wrapping his fingers around it. She saw the confusion cross his face and she bit her lip, hoping desperately that he would like it. She gave his fingers a final squeeze before she backed away.

"Okay, you can open them now." His eyes opened, and surprise flitted across his face when he saw the sword. He looked almost... disgusted, yet fascinated at the same time. Her shoulders sagged slightly with disappointment at his reaction. _Maybe this was a bad idea..._

"I never expected to see one of these here..." he murmured, as if to himself. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"Erm..."

"It's a blade of mercy. You can see them often enough in the Imperium, replicas of the sword Archon Hessarian used to kill Andraste. This one looks... finely crafted."

"So they sell these at every market stand in Minrathous," she stated flatly. Damn, she was hoping it would be something of worth. He laughed, and she relaxed a bit.

"Hardly. Look at this." He ran his fingers down the blade, and it glowed orange in response. Her eyes widened. "These are gifts of honor, given to those who have performed a service for the Imperium. I seem to recall that Danarius coveted them."

"Kind of ironic for you to have it, then," Hawke observed, now eying the blade a little warily. He chuckled again.

"Indeed. I'll think of that as I wield it." He stroked the blade again, and it flared up once more. "Thank you, Hawke." He lifted his eyes as he spoke and their gazes locked. She almost gasped at the intensity she saw flickering in his gray-green eyes, which probably matched her own expression. His eyes never wavering, he leaned the sword against the wall behind him and crossed the room till he stood directly in front of her. They watched each other for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, pressing his lips against hers with a fiery intensity that had been restrained earlier.

"_That's_ the reaction I was hoping for," Hawke whispered, swinging him over to the bed.


	12. Night Terrors part II

Fenris found himself standing next to Isabela in the elf woman Arianni's house. Hawke was speaking quietly with Keeper Marethari, and Anders was eavesdropping indiscreetly. He inched a little closer to the pair, and she turned and leveled a glare at him; he instantly backed away, looking for all the world like a dog that had been scolded for stealing food from the dinner table. With that image in mind, Fenris turned away from them, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

"What are you smiling at?" the pirate snickered, raising an eyebrow.

"A dog," he answered vaguely, glancing at Hawke out of the corner of his eye.

"Does this dog have a sexy ass?" she asked with a smirk. He was saved the necessity of answering as Hawke strode over to them, looking troubled. Her eyebrows were pulled together, and she chewed her lip in an uncertain sort of way.

"We should be able to ward off the demon," Anders spoke up softly. "Extreme measures won't be necessary."

"Shut up, Anders." She reached up a hand and brushed a lock of hair out of her face, the way she did when she was nervous. Fenris lifted an eyebrow. She saw and smiled, somewhat apologetically. Anders scowled, looking a little offended. She ignored him. "Keeper Marethari is preparing the ritual. Arianni has cots for us, and sleeping potions- we have to be asleep to enter the Fade." Fenris grimaced in distaste but he nodded his acquiescence. Marethari walked over and gave them a briefing, similar to the one they'd received from Anders the night before, so he didn't really pay attention.

Within minutes, they were lying down on the cots and closing their eyes.

* * *

><p>Hawke's eyes flew open. They stood in a marble hall, columns lining the sides. Familiar-looking statues were built against the columns.<p>

"Slaves," she whispered, horrified.

"The Gallows," Fenris agreed quietly. Then she heard a deep voice behind her- she started and spun around, reaching for her daggers, before she realized that the voice emanated from Anders.

"I had not thought to return to the Fade in such a way," he commented. Glowing blue lines rippled along his skin, and his eyes gleamed the same blue color. She took an involuntary step back. The somewhat menacing voice went on. "It is good to feel the breath of the Fade again, not the empty air of your world."

"Does this happen every time you're in the Fade?" she asked dryly, hiding her surprise well. She'd assumed that Justice would take a separate form once they were in the Fade...

"I am Justice. Anders has told you of me." Justice-Anders sounded annoyed. Hawke couldn't exactly blame him.

"Ah, indeed. A pleasure," she answered blithely. Justice-Anders wisely chose not to retort to her comment and said instead, "Come, I sense the boy's mind straining. We do not have much time. I will lead the way, if you do not mind."

Hawke bit back her annoyance and took a step back, giving Justice-Anders a curt nod to take point. He moved ahead, stepping confidently with shoulders back and chin held high, much unlike the normal Anders. She exchanged an irritated scowl with Fenris and followed the spirit.

He led them into a sort of courtyard, with stairs on either side leading to other rooms. They descended the set of stairs in the middle to find a demon waiting for them. _Ah, shit. _Hawke sighed inwardly and stepped forward to confront it. Justice-Anders glowed menacingly.

"A demon of sloth. It exists to make men forget their purpose and their pride. Be wary of it," he cautioned. _You don't have to tell me twice,_ she thought with another inward sigh. _Spirits are so annoying._

"Call me Torpor," the sloth demon told her. Its tone was enticingly silky, a low hiss. She shuddered as its voice slid over her ears. "I have a proposition that might interest you." She didn't even bother to consider it.

"I'm sorry, I don't deal with demons," she snapped. "I will _not_ give in to your temptations!"

"Have it your way," it hissed. She was already moving. Two other Shades joined it, but Hawke and her companions made short work of all three of them. She sheathed her daggers when they were finished and glanced around warily.

"There are no more demons in the immediate area," Justice-Anders told her unnecessarily.

"You don't say," she answered dryly. "Which one first?" She gestured to the doors on either side.

"I like that one," Isabela suggested, gesturing to the one on their left. Hawke shrugged and strode up to it. She swung the door open, and her form shimmered and changed as she stepped into the room. She glanced down and saw a skirt- she shivered inwardly- and sandals that didn't belong to her, but they looked somewhat familiar. She heard voices, and looking up again, she saw the lad Feynriel as a young boy sitting behind a desk with a man beside him. Feynriel called him Father, mentioned something about visiting Antiva, and turned to look at Hawke with wide, pleading eyes. _Oh, he sees me as Arianni,_ she realized. _How strange. _She disliked the feeling of inhabiting someone else's body, but she toyed with the idea of messing around a bit before firmly reminding herself that she had a mission to accomplish.

"Don't trust your father- he never wanted anything to do with you," she reminded him softly. She zoned out a bit while the father spoke again, guessing that he was the demon. No need to listen to its silky, poisonous words and let it change her mind.

"But... why can't I remember you?" Feynriel asked, sounding confused and frustrated.

"This is a trick, Feynriel. He wants something from you," she said, impatience growing. Feynriel started to realize something was up and he protested. The demon growled and changed forms, becoming a desire demon. Hawke suppressed the urge to glance back to make sure that Fenris wasn't staring mindlessly at the demon's figure, glowering instead at the demon. She felt her own form change back, and she was momentarily relieved to be herself again. Feynriel screamed girlishly and ran away.

"You! You turned him against me," the demon complained, scowling at Hawke, who shrugged.

"Oh, dear. I was trying to help, honestly," Hawke retorted.

"Well, take away my pets and I'll take away yours," the demon purred. To Hawke's complete and utter horror, she turned to Isabela. "Your lovely pirate queen here misses the open seas. What say you to a brand new, beautiful ship, and a hundred lads to answer to your every whim?"

"Mmm..." Isabela wasn't resisting the temptation. Hawke watched her face transform, the wariness disappearing and her eyes glittering with the thought of a new ship of her own. With the temptation.

"Should I turn now to allow you to stab me in the back, or would you rather it be a surprise?" she found herself uttering. Her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply at her own wit. _Me and my big mouth._ Dread coursed through her as Isabela smiled cunningly.

"Aren't you the sweetest," the pirate purred in a fashion not unlike the desire demon's from just a moment earlier. "I do like big boats, I cannot lie."

"Dammit, Isabela!" Hawke growled, whipping her daggers out and leaping to the side, just as Isabela drew her own daggers and advanced on them. Fenris lifted his sword in a huge arc to take her out almost instantly, so Hawke turned to the demon. Yet again, it was an easy battle for them, even without Isabela.

* * *

><p>Hawke turned shimmering eyes to Fenris. Betrayal glittered keenly in her icy blue eyes.<p>

"I can't believe she did that," she groaned. "I hope she'll be okay..."

"She'll be fine," Justice-Anders answered with an impatient scowl. "She's probably just woken up."

"Come on, Hawke," Fenris urged, disturbed by her grief and more willing than ever to leave that hellhole. "We have to keep moving." Hawke blinked and nodded slowly. She grimaced and straightened, running a hand through her hair.

"You're right," she sighed. "I'm sorry. Come on."

It was with a depressed air that they crossed the courtyard again and opened the other door. Hawke hesitated on the threshold.

"Why did we stop?" Justice-Anders snapped angrily. She ignored him, turning to Fenris with pleading eyes. He was a little taken aback by her expression.

"Don't fall to the temptation," she begged. "Stay by my side."

"I will," he promised rashly. She relaxed and nodded with relief, perhaps seeing the fierce determination in his gaze. She stepped forward, muscles coiled warily. They sidled down another hallway, and Hawke determinedly threw the door open. He watched her form shimmer again and change into an elf- a tall mage with silver hair. Fenris recognized the elf as First Enchanter Orsino, from descriptions he'd heard of the mage. He felt himself turn invisible again, as he and Justice-Anders had in the previous room, and watched as Hawke-as-Orsino confronted Keeper Marethari and teenage Feynriel. He guessed that the demon had taken the form as the Keeper. She cunningly convinced Feynriel that it was a trick yet again. Hawke regained her form, and he and Justice-Anders became visible again. And, as before, the Keeper transformed into a demon. He recognized this one as a pride demon.

"Why do you interfere with my plans? With my power joined with his, Feynriel could have changed the world!" the demon growled.

"Have you ever seen an abomination? They are ugly," Hawke sighed sardonically.

"You put such stock in appearances! That may be why your friends' loyalty runs only skin-deep." Fenris inhaled in shock and horror as the demon turned to him, and he instinctively reached for his sword. Hawke turned at the movement, and her eyes widened. He saw terror flicker across her expression before she swiftly composed it, and he couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach. "You think this slave would choose you over his freedom?"

"Cast your eyes elsewhere, demon," Fenris snarled. He stepped forward to stand level with Hawke as he glowered at the demon. "I won my freedom from the magisters long ago." His eyes narrowed with hate. He saw Hawke's shoulders drop with relief, and then stiffen again as the demon replied.

"But you fear them still! With my help, you could be free forever. You could have power enough to challenge any who would claim you." The demon looked him straight in the eye, and he felt his determination waver. Memories flooded through his mind, and he again wondered at his reasons for leaving Hawke that night. He wanted to protect her. Maybe this demon could help him protect her, and they could be together again... His previous determination was replaced by cool consideration. He barely heard Hawke's murmur.

"If you accept, you are no better than the magistrates," she whispered. He forced himself to look away from her. If he gazed into her persuasive blue eyes, he knew that he wouldn't be able to go through with his new decision. His resolve almost crumbled at her next words, spoken in a tone even lower than the previous one, low enough that the others couldn't hear. "Please, Fenris." There was such pain in her soft whimper, such fear... but there was another emotion he didn't immediately identify. Thinking back on it, he would realize that it was resignation, and wonder if she _expected_ him to betray her.

"I... but to be an equal to the magisters..." He hesitated. He was unwilling to explain his true reason for considering it. His mind was hazy, as if clouds had descended over it and blocked his rationality, making his thoughts feel sluggish and stupid. "What would you require of me?" he asked, lifting his eyes to the demon's again. The demon's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

"Just a moment of your time, nothing more..." it purred. Fenris turned with narrowed eyes, drawing his sword; his mind was totally fuzzy, now, and he moved almost methodically. He had a vague moment to register the overwhelming horror and grief in Hawke's gaze as he faced her.

"_Fenris, no!_" she shrieked, but it was too late. Justice-Anders hit him with an ice spell, and he froze into an ice statue. Only then did he realize the appalling consequences of his decision, and instead of struggling, he stood rooted in the ice, his mind frozen with dismay that seemed to melt the clouds away. _Damn. I did it. And I promised her I wouldn't... _He miserably watched Hawke; she seemed frozen in place as well. A dozen emotions flitted across her face before she controlled her expression again. She slid forward, her expression eerily calm. Her composure cracked visibly as she drew her daggers. "I'm sorry, Fenris," she mouthed with a heartbreaking expression. She drew her arm back in preparation. The last image he had seared into his mind before he awoke was of the single tear that slid down her cheek as the ice shattered.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hawke!<em>" Fenris bounded to his feet. He staggered at the grief and torment that coursed through him, and he leaned against the wall, uttering a soft moan.

"She's fine." Isabela's voice intruded on his thoughts, and he turned to face her with an agonized expression. Even she looked dismayed for once, but the dismay disappeared when Fenris met her gaze, to be replaced by a slightly amused, sympathetic smirk. She gestured to the other cots. Fenris ignored the one that Anders lay on; he strode over to the only other occupied cot and knelt beside it.

Hawke twitched in her sleep, her eyes moving restlessly under her eyelids. She grimaced and hissed aloud as he watched, and he flinched along with her, hoping that she wouldn't be hurt too badly. Her expression was one of extreme sadness, and he blinked sorrowfully, knowing that he had caused that sadness. Ignoring his strict rules of no touching, he reached out a hand and brushed her hair out of her face. It was sweaty, he realized dully... or were those tears? He bit his lip. He cupped her cheek in his hand and just gazed at her.

"She isn't as good at controlling her expression when she's asleep," commented Isabela. He started; he'd almost forgotten she was there. He scowled at her. She raised her eyebrows and lifted her hands innocently. "I think it's sweet, how concerned you are for her... Why did you leave her, anyway?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he growled, turning his back to her.

"Whatever." He heard footsteps. When he turned, she was gone. Fenris sighed and turned back to Hawke. He hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward. He pressed his lips gently against her soft, unresponsive ones. He pulled back a moment later with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," he whispered, stroking her hair. Then he turned and strode out of Arianni's house without a backward glance.

* * *

><p>Eight hours of pacing and several bottles of wine- most of them now decorating the wall- later, Fenris finally threw himself down in the uncomfortable armchair. His feet ached from kicking the wall, and the only thing that kept him from punching it was the knowledge that Hawke would make Anders heal his hand if he did- he definitely couldn't deal with the double humiliation of betraying Hawke and then needing Anders to heal him. He couldn't stop thinking about the agonized expression on her face as she drove her dagger through his spirit self, or the slightly smug expression he thought he'd caught on Justice-Anders' face.<p>

Worst of all, though, he couldn't forget the way the demon had looked at him and enticed him to even _consider_ a pact with it. He was aware that it had twisted his mind to benefit itself, but now that he considered the idea with a clear head... he felt absolutely repulsed. He dreaded seeing the expression on Hawke's face, the thinly disguised disappointment in her clear blue gaze...

Then he realized that she would be even more disappointed with the way he was handling it now- he realized with disgust that wallowing in self-pity wasn't helping himself or her. Maybe he did brood...

_Alright, that's it._ He jumped to his feet and turned toward the door. Whether he wanted to talk to her or not, whether she wanted to see him or not, he had to apologize. Before he could reach it, though, the door opened quietly.

"Fenris," she breathed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. Was that... _relief_ in her voice?

She was cloaked in darkness- the firelight didn't reach the entry room, and he hadn't bothered to light the lamps by the door- but her vivid blue eyes still stood out, dancing with her usual charm that seemed to show everything, but betrayed nothing. "I thought you..." She didn't finish her thought. Her shoulders slumped a bit, but a moment later she straightened up, as if with an effort.

"I've been thinking about what happened in the Fade," he began, speaking quickly so he wouldn't lose his nerve. Her silence and calm blue eyes urged him on. "That a demon could have played so easily on my fears... disturbs me." He paused a moment, lowering his gaze. "I failed you. I won't let that happen again."

"Fenris, the demon used magic to twist your mind around," she pointed out, eyes narrowing with concern. "It's not your fault."

"And yet _you_ resisted its temptation," he replied bitterly.

"Everyone gets one free demonic possession before I hold it against them," she answered with weak sarcasm.

"Good to know," he stated caustically.

"Fenris, I... I was a little surprised," she admitted. "Of all my friends, I thought you'd be the least likely to fall prey to a demon's temptation." He blinked, a little surprised at her confession. Then he felt even worse; she'd believed in him, and he had let her down.

"No more surprised than I was," he replied with a slight shrug.

"I'm sure," she agreed with a sigh. "Well, if it helps, Isabela gave in, too, so you weren't the only one."

"What did you do with the boy?" he asked after a moment.

"I sent him to Tevinter, so he could learn to control his powers," she sighed, looking relieved that she hadn't had to kill him. He must have given away some sign of distaste at the mention of his previous home country, as her own features twisted a little in response.

"Well, I guess we'll see if he regrets the mercy you provided him," he said humorlessly. "But that's not important anymore. Let's hope we face nothing similar in the future."

"Definitely," she agreed with a sigh. "The Fade really isn't the best place for vacationing." He smirked, and she seemed to relax in response. She turned back to the door. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Thanks," he answered honestly. "See you tomorrow, Hawke."

"Good night, Fenris," she said; he thought he detected a slight note of sadness in her voice. And then she was gone, and he was left alone in his stolen mansion.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This thing was being shitty, so I'll probably keep my comments at the bottom from now on. Anyway, sorry it took so long to get this up, I've been working on the story that will take place after the game- I hope to have that up soon! :D Thanks for reading!**

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><p><strong>I need some input from you guys,<strong>** so here's another poll: what should I write the next story about? Here are the options: the Mark of the Assassin DLC, Demands of the Qun (the end of Act 2), Ostagar, or the prologue of the game.**


	13. Ostagar

**_A/N: _Thanks for the reviews, guys! I really appreciate it! Anyway, I am working on my other story, and as soon as I post this I'm going to go edit it and hopefully I'll get up the first chapter soon xD A few characters that you'll recognize make cameos in this story, so I hope you'll enjoy seeing them.**

* * *

><p><em>Fenris has been asking me about what my life was like in Ferelden- so, naturally, I keep thinking about my last few days there. Before we fled from the Blight, Carver and I fought in the battle at Ostagar, but we were able to escape once we realized what was going on. Sometimes, I forget what it was like in Ferelden... so I wrote this story to remind myself of it.<em>

_-Hawke_

* * *

><p><strong>Ostagar<strong>

Hawke yawned with boredom and rose to her feet. She was resting in the soldiers' camp at Ostagar, sharpening her daggers in preparation for the coming battle. Deciding that they were sharp enough, she flicked her main dagger experimentally before slipping them both into their sheaths at her waist. She turned to go for a walk.

"Going somewhere?" Carver asked, walking up to her from his tent. He stayed in the one next to hers with one of the other soldiers; since she was a girl, Hawke had a tent to herself. Not that she would have minded sharing with another soldier.

"Yes. I'm leaving to go join the darkspawn horde, just so I can specifically make your life a living hell," she deadpanned. Carver rolled his eyes.

"Do you have to make _everything_ into a joke?" he asked witheringly.

"Yep," she answered cheerfully. "Coming with?"

"Just to make sure you don't get in trouble," he groused. She turned to lead the way through the soldiers' encampment.

"Since when has you being with me ever stopped me from getting into trouble?" she teased over her shoulder. He just sighed and jogged a few steps to catch up with her.

She threaded her way through the encampment, bantering amiably with other soldiers as they passed. Carver just followed silently; she could feel annoyance and fear simmering from him in equal measures. Hawke herself was feeling a little anxious, but whereas Carver became surly when he was nervous, Hawke only became more facetious. At the edge of the encampment were the Grey Wardens' tents. The Wardens were looking considerably more grave than the regular soldiers, she observed. The Wardens watched them warily as they passed; Hawke just tossed them a dazzling smile, and they quit staring.

"You always do that," Carver grumbled as they finally passed the last of the tents.

"Do what?" Hawke asked innocently.

"Grin at everyone like they're the most important thing in the world."

Hawke glanced back at Carver and grinned at him. He just glowered at her.

They wandered past a large bonfire, where Hawke recognized the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden- Duncan was his name, she recalled- who was standing with a Mabari hound. Then they passed a group of mages, who were performing some sort of ritual, supervised by several templars. Here, to Carver's annoyance, Hawke paused to watch them, eyes wide with curiosity. She walked over to an elderly mage who was standing nearby.

"What are they doing?" she asked the mage curiously, gesturing to the other mages.

"They are walking through the Fade," answered the woman, looking a little amused. Hawke nodded thoughtfully. Her father and Bethany had told her about the dangers of the Fade, so she was more knowledgeable about it than most people.

"Why-" Hawke began, but Carver cut her off.

"Must you ask questions about everything?" he sighed. She opened her mouth to retort.

"Curiosity isn't a bad thing, young man," the elderly woman contradicted him. "It shouldn't be stifled. What's your name, child?" she added to Hawke.

"Hawke- er, Rathina Hawke," she answered with a slight blush. "This is my brother Carver."

"My name is Wynne," the woman introduced herself.

"You came from the Circle?" Hawke asked, intrigued. Wynne smiled, but she had a sharp glint in her eyes that worried Hawke a bit. "What can Circle mages do on the battlefield?"

"I'm here to help heal wounded soldiers in the battle," she answered. "Some of the others are going to help in the actual fight."

"Well, good luck, then," Hawke replied seriously. "It was nice to meet you."

"May the Maker smile upon all of us," Wynne agreed. Hawke smiled and turned to walk away. Her stride was quicker than before, and Carver hurried to keep up.

"Why are you walking so fast?" he hissed. "Since you were so eager to talk to her in the first place..."

"She had a strange look about her. I thought it wise not to stick around her for too long," Hawke answered, a little grimly. Carver rolled his eyes.

"You're paranoid."

"Is there anybody who's not, this close to the battle?" Hawke pointed out with wry amusement. Just then she threw her arm out to stop Carver from moving any farther, and they both stopped to watch one of the junior Grey Wardens pass with a young woman that Hawke had never seen before. The woman's gaze darted around warily, and although she moved with a smooth, lithe gait, she seemed uncomfortable. Hawke guessed that she'd just arrived in Ostagar. Carver seemed to be followed her train of thought, for he whispered in her ear, "That must be the new Warden recruit everybody's talking about." _He might be a bullhead,_ Hawke thought wryly, _but at least he pays attention._

"You know, I bet you're right," she whispered back. "Arianna Cousland- Teryn Cousland's daughter. I think that's Alistair with her."Alistair glanced over, as if hearing them speak, and they locked gazes. Hawke smiled cheerily at him and he blinked, bemused, before he glanced away again. She could've sworn she saw a blush creep up his cheeks.

"She looks so sad," Hawke sighed.

"You did hear what happened to her parents, right?" Carver asked derisively.

"Yes, I did! I'm not an idiot, you know."

"Are you sure about that?" Hawke just glowered at her brother, who shrugged. "Whatever. Let's head back to camp, I'm hungry."

"You're _always_ hungry."

The two headed back to camp, bantering slightly more than usual in an attempt to hide their nerves, so they could prepare for the coming battle.

* * *

><p>Hawke stood next to Carver, shivering a little. It was twilight; the sun was sinking fast, as was the temperature. They were near the back of the army, thankfully; it bothered Carver, but she'd promised her mother that she would protect him.<p>

"What's going on?" she hissed to her brother. Normally, her height didn't bother her, but at times like this it could be really annoying; even on her tiptoes, she couldn't see what was happening at the front of the army. Especially not with everybody else straining to look.

"I don't see- Oh. Maker's _breath,_" Carver breathed. "Those things are _hideous._" A horn blew then, and they heard the _twang_ of arrows leaving bowstrings as the archers aimed and fired. The mages at the back of the army set fire to the arrows to make them more effective. It was followed a few moments later by a hair-raising screech as the darkspawn were struck with the flaming arrows. Howls echoed across the evening as the hounds were released upon the darkspawn, and then whimpers of pain. Hawke grimaced sympathetically, glad that Fang was at home. She gripped her daggers nervously; off to her right, Carver shifted his weight constantly, his gaze darting back and forth with the same anxiety.

"Sister, I..." Carver began, then trailed off as he swallowed apprehensively.

"Something wrong?" she asked teasingly, but her own voice cracked pathetically. He turned and glared at her. She shrugged. "I just can't shake the feeling that something will go wrong," she explained, lowering her voice and biting her lip. He opened his mouth to tell her what he thought about that, but a horn blew ahead of them, and his words were swallowed by a collective shout from all the soldiers and the scraping sound of swords being drawn from their sheaths as the army sprinted forward, brandishing their weapons. Hawke shook her head and ran after the man in front of her, with Carver at her side.

* * *

><p>It didn't take a genius to figure out that the battle wasn't going well. For every darkspawn they killed, it seemed as if two more took its place. Hawke guessed it had been about an hour since the battle started, but the signal hadn't been sent yet.<p>

"What's taking Alistair and the new Warden recruit so long?" she hissed to Carver during a brief respite from the darkspawn. He just shrugged, scowling, before several more darkspawn converged on them. Then a cheer rose up from the other soldiers, and everybody stopped to turn toward the Tower. The signal flare danced on the top floor.

"Finally!" Hawke laughed, plunging her dagger into the darkspawn and glancing expectantly toward the forest where Teryn Loghain's men were supposedly waiting for the signal. Then the weird feeling from earlier returned, like ice water trickling down her back, and she shivered with dread.

"What's going on?" Carver asked, also facing toward the forest, brows furrowed with confusion. "Aren't they supposed to come help us?"

"Something's wrong," Hawke whispered, and the same murmur spread across the rest of the army like a light breeze. Way up at the front of the army, King Cailan had stopped and was glancing around in similar confusion. He shouted back to Duncan; Hawke couldn't catch their words, but the meaning was clear. Her stomach plummeted, and for the first time, raw fear ripped through her body. "Carver, I... I don't think Loghain is coming." She heard a sharp inhale on her right, followed by a muffled swear. Another darkspawn approached them; Hawke yelled angrily and stabbed it, killing it quickly. Three more darkspawn strode up to them, followed by four more.

"Dammit!" Hawke swore, whirling around. The army was failing quickly, now; even as she watched, King Cailan fell, and Warden-Commander Duncan was charging an ogre in his final brave act of life. She whipped a fire bomb out of her pocket and threw it at the feet of the approaching darkspawn before lashing out and grabbing Carver's wrist.

"Carver, we have to run," she told him, dragging him away. He resisted at first, but relented when he saw all the darkspawn that were still alive, leering and slinking toward the army with deadly purpose.

"Maker damn him," Hawke swore as they ran, dodging past darkspawn and soldiers alike, referring to Loghain. A few of the soldiers were getting the idea and following them, but most stood resolutely, facing death directly rather than shying away from it.

Well, Hawke wasn't ready to give up her life just yet. And she was going to take as many people with her as she could.

"Come on!" she screamed at some of the soldiers, staggering to a halt. "The King and the Warden-Commander are dead! Teryn Loghain won't come to save us! We _have to leave!_"

"No!" one of the soldiers shouted back at her. "We aren't cowards! The Teryn _will _come!"

"You _idiots!_" Hawke shrieked. "The Teryn abandoned us! He isn't going to sweep in and save the day!"

"Sister, we have to go," Carver hissed, eyes flashing with annoyance.

"We're going back to Lothering," Hawke told the other soldiers, her own eyes narrowed with determination. "You're welcome to join us, if you can keep up. If you stay, though, you're going to die, just like our brave King Cailan did- there's no hope left for you here."

"_Rathina!_" Carver insisted, glancing nervously back at the advancing horde.

"Right." She turned, then paused and glanced back at the determined soldiers. "Maker watch over you all." Their expressions softened at her last words, and they solemnly repeated it. She spun around and sprinted off the battlefield, adjusting her stride so Carver could keep up in his heavy armor.

* * *

><p>"I think we've gone far enough," Carver panted, stumbling to a halt a while later. Hawke skidded to a stop, casting a concerned sideways glance at her brother. He was sweating profusely and breathing hard. He was also limping a bit, and Hawke noticed a cut on his calf. Her own side was aching- a darkspawn had hit it hard, and she thought it might have cracked one of her ribs. And then, of course, they both had several other cuts and bruises scattered across their bodies.<p>

"We can stop for a few minutes," Hawke allowed. "Aren't you wearing a tunic or something underneath that heavy armor? Why didn't you take it off? You're not _that _attached to it, are you?"

"I can't pull it off while we're running," he pointed out, glowering, as he started to unstrap the breast plate. "I guess I have more at home, though not nearly as good quality as this."

"After that battle, I don't think it's all that good quality anymore. We don't have enough money to repair it." Hawke had picked up the breast plate and was examining its numerous stains and dents with slight distaste.

"If any of the darkspawn followed us-" began Carver, but he was cut off when a red-haired woman soldier sprinted into the immediate area- a woman, Hawke could tell, because she'd thrown off her helmet to reveal bright red hair streaming behind her.

"Hurry!" the woman called over her shoulder. She turned to face Hawke and Carver, taking in the scene with an eyebrow lifted. As she appraised them, more soldiers sprinted past, staggering with the effort of running with their own heavy armor. "Are you two survivors of the battle as well?"

"Yes," Hawke asserted. "I'm Rathina Hawke, this is my brother Carver. We're returning to Lothering, where our family is, so we can alert them and get out quickly."

"Aveline Vallen," the woman answered, extending a hand. Hawke shook it firmly, her mouth pressed into a grim line as mutual understanding passed between them... although that didn't hide the amused quirk to her eyebrow when she heard the woman's first name. "Do you know if anybody else survived?" Aveline added curiously.

"A few others were following us when we left the battlefield, but they got lost," Hawke replied with a regretful shrug.

"Ah." Grief flickered across Aveline's face. "I can't believe the Teryn betrayed us like that."

"Neither can we," Carver growled.

"Good luck getting your family out of Lothering," added the red-haired warrior. Wry amusement flickered across her expression. "Perhaps we will meet again."

"Good luck to you, too," Hawke answered, grimacing. They nodded to each other before they turned and raced off in opposite directions, Carver now matching his sister stride for stride.


	14. Mark of the Assassin: part I

_**A/N:**_

_**Hey again! I hope I didn't make you guys wait too long for another update. If you haven't noticed, I uploaded the first chapter for my new story, **_**Rising Tensions, Flaring Passions _(the one I put a preview for a couple stories back). If you want to know what happens to Rathina Hawke after she leaves Kirkwall, I suggest you check it out!_**

**_Anyhow, here's the first part of the Mark of the Assassin story. This one will be cut into two or possibly even three parts. I'll probably upload a filler story in between this part and the second, though, 'cause I have an idea for one dancing around in my head. _**

**_I borrowed a bit of dialogue from the game for this story, but I also changed it a bit and added in some of my own. I find myself growing more comfortable with the characters, so I'm taking more liberties now with this :D. By the way, as this story is packed full with spoilers, I suggest not reading it if you haven't played through the MotA DLC yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :p_**

* * *

><p><em>So I was wandering through the market yesterday- disguised under a large, plain cloak, of course- when I looked around and spotted this red-haired elf. Naturally, she reminded me of another elf with red hair I met in my last year in Kirkwall. Our little quest with Tallis was probably one of my favorites- the one I'm on now excepted, of course! So, of course, I wrote about our entertaining journey to Chateau Haine with Tallis the elf.<em>

_-Hawke_

* * *

><p>"And of course there's no one here," Hawke said dryly as they stopped in Hightown. She turned to the others and lifted an eyebrow. She wasn't exactly sure what they were looking for, but Varric had convinced her to come meet somebody based on a tip-off he'd received from one of his buddies. Now the dwarf shrugged helplessly.<p>

"All I know is that it has to do with you and nobles-"

"Doesn't it always?" Hawke interjected.

"-but Edge is usually very reliable," Varric finished, rolling his eyes at Hawke's wit.

"Usually," Isabela repeated sardonically. "With a name like 'Edge,' you can never really be sure."

"And this is normally where we're ambushed," Fenris added, glancing behind them warily.

"Why? It's not always an ambush!" Varric insisted. Hawke's gaze flicked up to the roof of a building to their left, alighting upon a lone archer who crouched there, bow strung, and she nudged Fenris and nodded to it. The lanky elf sighed and shook his head as another man stepped out in front of them. Hawke sensed more men sneaking up behind them. "Well, maybe this time it is," Varric amended with a sigh, loading Bianca and holding her ready. Hawke snorted.

"And there is the Champion of Kirkwall. You die today," sneered the man in what was definitely an Antivan accent. He was holding lethal looking daggers that swirled with poison and glaring at them menacingly.

"Well, doesn't this just make my day. I spend all morning arguing with templars, the afternoon hunting down rogue mages, and now I have to deal with some Antivan Crows. Just my luck," Hawke sighed, drawing her own daggers.

Suddenly she heard a muffled grunt behind her- the kind of grunt a man makes when he's stabbed unexpectedly, a sound that Hawke recognized easily. She whirled around, trusting Fenris to guard her back, to see an elf woman perched on top of the building, kicking away the corpse of the man who'd been stationed there. The elf jumped into the air, drawing her arm back to hurtle another dagger toward the men who had sneaked up behind Hawke and her companions, followed by another which was thrown with amazing speed. The elf was obviously a skilled rogue; Hawke wondered for a moment if she was another Crow, but she didn't recognize these moves as belonging to the assassins. She cut down several more men before they had time to react and then performed an excellent dive roll toward the leader of the Crows to avoid arrows that whizzed over her head. She popped up beside the man and pressed her dagger against his throat, glowering at him.

"Kill them! Kill them all!" wailed the man pathetically before she slit his throat. She tossed a glance back at Hawke and the others, her misty eyes thrilling with the kill.

"Well? Are you going to just stand there?" she laughed in a musical voice. As if on cue, Hawke herself spun and hurled a fire bomb toward some of the men before disappearing into the shadows.

"Who the hell is that?" she shouted to Varric, who shrugged as he lifted Bianca.

"Don't know!" he yelled back. "Kill first, ask questions later!"

Hawke watched the strange elf out of the corner of her eye as she attacked the Antivans. For once, this stranger was fighting on their side, something Hawke was immensely grateful for, if totally confused about. She had a really unique fighting style, though; for the most part, she stood back and flicked shivs at the Crows, often killing or at least incapacitating them so one of the others could finish him off. Whenever one of them got too close, though, the elf would effortlessly whip out one of her own poison-coated blades and kill him swiftly.

Thanks to the stranger, they quickly made short work of the Crows. Hawke crouched next to the last man she'd killed and cleaned her daggers on his belt before she turned and lifted an eyebrow at the elf, who was leaning against a pillar and casually cleaning her daggers.

"You'd think the Crows would be better at this. They've been doing it for ages," the elf remarked with a sly sideways glance in Hawke's direction.

"Yes, I think their performance today was more substandard than usual," Hawke agreed. Isabela snorted behind her, and she threw an exasperated glance at the other rogue. "That was an amazing entrance, by the way. You have some fine moves," she added with a slight grin.

"I do, don't I?" The elf grinned in response, shoving herself off the pillar. "My name is Tallis," she went on, with a bit of a mocking curtsy. Hawke decided right away that she liked this elf. "I've been looking for you."

"Now there's a surprise," Fenris muttered under his breath.

"Looking for me?" Hawke asked, arching a mocking surprised eyebrow. "Well, obviously you already know my name, then."

"Looking for someone with an invitation to Chateau Haine, to be more specific," Tallis corrected. Tallis was a slender elf with flaming red hair, somewhat reminding Hawke of (*cough*Felicia Day*cough*) Leliana. Her eyes were an intriguing, misty gray color. She had fine green armor that might have been of Qunari make, and it was also very light and evidently easy to move around in; she carried herself with poise, a fact that wasn't wasted on Hawke.

"That's what Edge was on about," Varric remarked in an aside to Hawke. "You remember, Duke Prosper, the one who fawned all over you at the Champion of Kirkwall banquet? He talked about a hunt."

"Andraste's sweet ass, I don't _want _to remember that man," Hawke groaned in a long-suffering manner. "I doubt I'd go to such a thing, anyway," she added after a thoughtful moment.

"I was hoping you'd reconsider. The duke is supposedly a delightful host." Tallis gave her another sideways glance, as if she was sizing her up.

"I'm guessing this isn't just a social call, then," Hawke sighed.

"Is it ever, with you?" snorted Isabela.

"Shut up, whore," Hawke hissed to her. Tallis watched them, a little bemused, before she shook her head and turned, pacing away.

"I need to... relieve him of something he has no right to possess. And I can't do it alone." Tallis turned back to face them with a disturbed expression.

"Naturally... wait, you want me to help rob him?" Hawke was genuinely dumbfounded. She'd been asked to do many things before- many of them illegal- but she'd never been asked outright to help rob somebody.

"Stealing from Orlesians is never wrong. Or so I've been told." Varric spread his arms helplessly. Hawke gritted her teeth.

"This isn't how I was planning to ask you this," Tallis sighed. "I was hoping for an introduction with... less blood." She gestured grimly around the clearing, littered with Crow bodies. The Hightown residents would have an unpleasant surprise when they came out the next morning.

"What makes you think I steal things just because people ask me to?" Hawke demanded, her bemusement quickly changing to anger that flashed in her icy gaze.

"Well... I may have... talked you up a bit. Maybe more than once." Varric scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Oh, Varric," Hawke groaned, running a hand through her hair with a scowl.

"Would you rather I told everybody you slaughtered half of Kirkwall?"

"All I've heard," Tallis interjected quickly, probably sensing a brewing argument and wisely dissuading it before it began, "is that you get things done. I'm hoping that's true." Hawke hesitated.

"Well, what is it you want to steal?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"A... jewel. The duke thinks it's valuable, and it is... but not in the way he believes. What's more, he shouldn't have it in the first place; it's not even his." She paused thoughtfully, then quoted, "'He who walks on water must first learn to swim.'" Hawke wasn't sure how that particular quote applied in their situation, and she'd never heard it before in her life, but apparently it had some signifiance to Tallis; out of the corner of her eye, Hawke thought she saw Fenris react in surprise, and she figured she'd ask him about it later. Tallis was watching Hawke imploringly, her own eyebrow arched, waiting for an answer. She made a snap decision; she would accompany this Tallis to Chateau Haine, but if this stealing thing proved to be too much, she'd back out. Easy enough.

"Sounds like fun," Hawke decided. "I hear the Orlesians make good cheese!" Tallis laughed, but her gaze narrowed shrewdly, and Hawke knew that she'd guessed her plan.

"That's right- you're Fereldan, aren't you?" sniggered the elf.

"Contrary to popular belief, we aren't actually dog people," Hawke replied, rolling her eyes.

"I'll keep that in mind." Tallis grinned. "Come with me to Chateau Haine, and I'll explain everything on the way. If nothing else, you'll get wine and fancy company. But... I hope you'll want more than that."

"Wine and fancy company. Just what I needed." Hawke smirked.

"What, am I not 'fancy' enough for you? You know you only need to say the word and I can be," Isabela pointed out, grinning.

"She's got Broody for the fancy stuff," Varric retorted, sniggering and even Tallis giggled. Hawke and Fenris just exchanged an exasperated glance.

"Let's just loot the bodies, and we can be off," Hawke said, gesturing to the bodies. Tallis nodded and turned toward the stairs that led to Lowtown. She stopped there, leaning against the wall to wait.

"Everywhere we go, people try to kill you," Fenris sighed with a slight scowl. Hawke glanced at him, her own mouth twisting with wry amusement.

"Yes, well, that's what I keep you around for," she teased.

"I hope you keep me around for more than that," he growled, but his own gaze glittered with amusement.

"Would you two kids stop flirting so we can get going?" complained Varric. Hawke rolled her eyes and knelt, rummaging through the Crows' pockets. They took anything useful before following Tallis out of Kirkwall.

* * *

><p>"The jewel we're after is called the Heart of the Many," Tallis explained as they walked.<p>

"Interesting name," Hawke commented.

"Interesting jewel. All I care about it getting it away from the duke," the elf went on.

"I'm sensing a catch," Hawke muttered. Tallis grimaced.

"Here's the problem: the Heart is in a vault, behind who knows what kind of traps, protected by a private army of Orlesian chevaliers." Now Hawke was the one to grimace. She'd heard all the stories of the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden, especially the Battle of the River Dane. "All contained inside a fortress which is designed to be impregnable. And let's not forget that it's on the side of the mountain, in the middle of nowhere, and surrounded by monsters."

"That's convenient." Hawke sighed. "They're trying to make it easy on us, aren't they?"

Tallis just laughed wryly.

* * *

><p>"The first to find and slay a wyvern wins the honors of the evening- and bragging rights, of course! Good luck to you all!"<p>

Hawke sighed as they finally reached the end of their journey, where Duke Prosper stood. There were other nobles nearby; they glanced at her curiously but didn't spare time to speak to her, as they all melted into the trees to begin the hunt. As they stepped out of the trees, a foreboding-looking man stepped out in front of them, his arms crossed, glaring down at Hawke. She just gazed back at him cheerfully, well aware of Fenris stepping up beside her with a hand on his sword hilt.

"Lovely day for a hunt, don't you agree? Very... outdoorsy."  
>"Ah, the Champion of Kirkwall!" exclaimed the duke, peering at them around the large man. These are honored guests," he added to the man, who grudgingly stepped aside. "Please excuse Cahir, I hear a polite bodyguard is contrasting in terms!" he chuckled.<p>

"A Chasind? Here?" Hawke couldn't help but be wary of the large man. She shot a glance at him.

"Ah, yes, you are Fereldan, aren't you?"  
>"I was, last time I checked. Does everyone have to keep reminding me?" Hawke muttered under her breath. The duke didn't notice, but Isabela, Fenris and Tallis all had to muffle chuckles.<p>

"You would know of his people," finished the duke cheerfully.

"I know of darkspawn, too, but I generally don't let them breathe on me." She couldn't suppress her sarcasm. _Orlesians always bring out the best in me..._  
>"Aha, he breathes on all the guests. Think of it as a rite of passage," chuckled the duke. "And who is this lovely specimen?" he added, his gaze flicking over to Tallis.<p>

"You flatter me, your Grace," Tallis simpered. She was good at the whole diplomacy thing, Hawke noticed.

"And I see you brought a manservant or two, already armed and armored. Wonderful!" exclaimed the duke. Hawke somehow managed to resist smiling by nodding sagely. She could feel Fenris's annoyance at being called a "manservant".

"I must say, I didn't expect you. I already have an Amell, you see. Or Hawke, I suppose it is. A member of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi, no less! And endlessly charming." Hawke followed Prosper's gaze and froze with shock when she saw Bethany standing there, chatting with some other man.

"Did you know your sister was going to be here?" Fenris whispered in her ear. She shook her head and quickly composed her expression. Bethany glanced up at them, and surprise flickered across her own expression momentarily before a shadow fell across her own gaze.

"Sister," she greeted Hawke rather coolly. Hawke grimaced at her sister's accusatory expression, but she was able to divine some relief in her sister's almond gaze. Bethany walked over to them.

"Perhaps you should join forces," Prosper went on, seemingly unaware of the tension between them. "To avoid any appearance of collusion between parties. At any rate, I won't keep you from the hunt! Wouldn't want you to fall behind the others, yes?"

"Err, no..." Hawke muttered distractedly before she pulled herself together again. She grinned. "The sooner we get to the celebrations, the happier I'll be!"

"Oh, I quite agree!" chortled the Orlesian. _Maker's breath, this man is such an idiot,_ Hawke thought with an inward sigh. "The festivities cannot come soon enough!" Here he looked at her with such a leery expression that it was all she could do to keep from backing away. "Good luck to you, my lady! Remember, fortune favors the bold," he added forebodingly.

"Er, right," Hawke answered, plastering another grin on her face. "We'll see you again after I win!" He laughed as she turned and led them away, Bethany tagging along. They spoke with a few other people in the clearing before Hawke finally led them out onto the hunting grounds.

* * *

><p>"'Manservant,'" Fenris repeated with a snort once they were out of earshot of the Duke. He looked thoroughly disgusted.<p>

"Aw, Fenris got his feeling hurt," Isabela snickered.

"You still harping on about that?" Hawke chuckled, leading them down the grassy slope.

"He hasn't said anything yet," Tallis pointed out, looking bemused.

"No, but he's been brooding about it the whole time," snickered Hawke, who was growing more amused by the heartbeat.

"I don't brood," Fenris insisted.

"Whatever you say, hon," snorted Isabela.

"It's only a cover, anyway." The red-haired elf shrugged.

"I'd like to cover him with six feet," Fenris growled.

"Don't we all," sighed Bethany.

"Annoying bastard," Hawke agreed.

"Well, aren't you guys cheerful," Tallis remarked sardonically.

"Tallis, I hope you have an idea for killing this wyvern," Hawke said after a few moments of silence.

"Well, first we have to get it to attack us," she pointed out. "We can't exactly set a trap for it, wyverns are too big. And we don't have a very long time to try to come up with an idea for a trap, anyway."

"So, bait it to us," Bethany suggested. "See if we can find clues as to what attracts them."

"That's... actually a very good idea," Tallis admitted.

"So, we'll just wander around, picking up clues along the way, and once we get to a nice, big clearing we'll try to bait one down to us," Hawke decided. "You know, I've never tried to get anything to attack me intentionally."

"And I hope you never have to do it again," Fenris sighed.

"Me, too."

Their pace picked up now and they walked with a purpose. They continued on in silence for a few more minutes, passing several more Orlesians along the way.

"I heard wyverns nest in trees," one Orlesian commented to another as they passed. Another was swearing at his Mabari. _Hm, they have Mabaris, too, but somehow us Fereldans come across as the "dog-people"._ Hawke was tempted to voice this comment aloud, but they were still in earshot of the Orlesians, so she figured it would be a bad idea.

"Hunting for sport." Fenris snorted quietly. "Is it wrong of me to cheer for the wyverns?"

"Just ignore them." Tallis sighed, running a hand through her bright red hair.

"How long has this wyvern hunt been going on?" Bethany wondered aloud, glancing around curiously.

"It's an annual tradition," Tallis explained. "The Montforts began it to keep the population down- they breed like rabbits."

"And the Orlesian nobility is too happy to help out." Hawke wrinkled her nose in disgust as they trudged along.

"It's all part of a game. The Montforts are close to the empress, so anything that pleases them is worth pursuing. Plus, they make this interesting wine out of it. You should try it, you'll be seeing purple dragons in the sky for days."

"Hmmm..." Isabela contemplated that thoughtfully.

"Don't even bother," Hawke scolded her teasingly. "Well, not till we've accomplished our objective, at least."

"Fine." Isabela sighed theatrically.

* * *

><p>They wandered along for a little while longer before they were attacked by ugly little creatures that popped out of holes in the side of the mountains. They were easy to defeat, but Hawke and her friends were almost overwhelmed by sheer numbers.<p>

"What the hell are those things?" Hawke asked as she cut down the last one, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Ghasts," explained Tallis. "Little creatures that hide in mountain caves. They don't usually come out, though."

"Disgusting things," Isabela complained, moving away from one and shuddering as she cleaned her dagger on the grass.

"Woahh, what do we have here?" Hawke had continued down the path and nearly stepped right on the corpse of a...

"Dragon," Fenris observed, glancing instinctively toward the sky.

"Do dragons and wyverns even mix?" Tallis asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Bethany deadpanned.

"So if we drop some of this in the right spot," Hawke mused, "we might be able to attract the wyvern?"

"Bingo." Tallis grinned.

* * *

><p>"Is that..." Hawke paused. "Wyverns <em>mating?<em>" They stood at the edge of a clearing, listening to raucous animal sounds coming from the trees, as well as loud crashing, like trees were falling over.

"I think so." Tallis wrinkled her nose at the sound of the wyverns' whimpers and moans.

"Hm." Hawke fell into a thoughtful silence.

"Uh oh," Bethany whispered.

"Could we mimic that?" Hawke asked after a moment, grinning. Tallis turned bright red.

"_No!_ Ohh, you mean the sounds. Right, yeah, I think I could pull that one off."

* * *

><p>A while later, they finally crossed into the eastern part of the hunting grounds. They were met by the sight of a wide, beautiful lake, with enchanting scenery. Hawke paused a moment to allow them to take it all in before they continued down the path. They were attacked by several more ghasts, and Hawke reflected that it was nice to be fighting with Bethany again. She was very useful when it came to fighting several monsters at once, like with the numerous ghasts. Often, Hawke would start to creep toward a group of the things, only to have them explode in a ball of fire right before her.<p>

They moved along beside the lake, keeping an eye out for a wyvern. As they walked, they began to smell something horribly nasty, and the smell only grew with every step.

"What the hell is that smell?" Isabela complained loudly, covering her nose with her hand. She appeared not to notice her inadvertent rhyme.

"Shit," Hawke pronounced.

"What?" Tallis asked, lifting an eyebrow, and Hawke pointed.

"Oh, gross," the elf groaned.

"At least it means we're getting closer," Fenris pointed out, but even his features were screwed up in disgust.

"Sister- no- Maker's _breath,_ Rathina, what are you _doing?_" Bethany exclaimed.

"Looking for clues." Hawke grimaced and peeled off her gloves. Holding her breath, she knelt by the pile of crap and started digging through it, looking faintly green.

"Oh, for Andraste's sake, do you _have_ to do that?" her sister sighed, closing her eyes. Isabela stood behind her, howling with laughter. Fenris rolled his eyes, amused and disgusted at the same time.

"Look, nug bones," Tallis observed, peering at them over Hawke's shoulder. "Maybe we could use a nug call to attract the wyvern." Hawke sat back on her heels and stared up at Tallis.

"You know a _nug _call?"

"You go elbow-deep in wyvern shit, and _I'm_ the weird one?" countered Tallis.

"Point taken." Hawke rose to her feet, grimacing, and walked over to the lake, where she promptly washed off her hands. Fenris handed her a rag which she accepted gratefully and dried her hands. "Gross."

* * *

><p>They continued on up the path. Hawke felt a growing sense of discomfort, as if they were being watched; glancing back at the others, she could see that they felt it, too. Bethany was especially jumpy, and Fenris kept glancing over his shoulder and peering into the trees; Isabela fingered her daggers as was her wont when she was nervous. Tallis's whole body was tense, and she crept along like a cat.<p>

"What happened to all the birds, and... everything?" she asked nervously. "Uh oh..."

"Be careful, guys," Hawke warned, lowering her voice. "Keep your eyes out for it." The others just nodded. They continued cautiously down the path, and more hints to the wyvern's position became evident; they passed several human skeletons and another pile of wyvern dung. They stepped out into another clearing.

"Well, the trail suggests wyverns just love this place to bits. If we were going to find one... it would be here." Tallis glanced around the clearing anxiously.  
>"Right." Hawke set her bag down and rummaged through it.<p>

"I think we have enough bait to lure one down here, although it may not be a huge one," Tallis remarked.

"Good. I just want something manageable for us."

They set down the dragon corpse, and Tallis smeared some of the blood on her skin. When the others gave her a weird look, she lifted an eyebrow and explained, "The prey needs to be moving, doesn't it?" Hawke just rolled her eyes and stepped back.

"Be careful, Tallis," Hawke warned.

"Always," the elf answered cheerily before she moved away from them. "Don't forget that the wyverns are poisonous!" she added over her shoulder before she set to work luring the wyvern. She started jumping up and down, flapping her wings and making loud nug calls, looking utterly ridiculous. Hawke would have laughed at the comical sight, if her nerves weren't so tightly wound. Isabela wasn't able to contain her snigger, though.

They heard a loud rustling sound, and the wyvern burst out of the trees. Isabela instantly quit snickering.

The wyvern was a large, ugly creature. It looked kind of like a giant lizard- Hawke could easily see its resemblance to dragons. Its body was long and lean. The scales on top of its body were blue, but underneath they were gray; its eyes were a piercing yellow color. Yellow-and-black spikes protruded all along its back, and one even poked out on its nose. It glowered at them and bared ferocious teeth. Its tail lashed back and forth as it threw back its head and uttered a bloodcurdling shriek. Her blood ran cold.

"Be careful," she whispered to Fenris as he charged forward to intercept it.

Tallis immediately stopped fooling around; with wicked speed she reached for one of her throwing knives and hurled it forward. It stuck in the wyvern's left eye, and it howled again- with pain this time. Blood seeped from its bad eye as it swung its head around to glare at the elf with its good eye. Then, with blinding speed, it charged toward her, and she only managed to hop out of the way just in time. Hawke dove forward and plunged her dagger into its armpit; she knew, from battling the high dragon, that the armpit would be its least protected spot. And she'd judged right; the wyvern growled and batted at her. She rolled out of the way, and an icy blast soared over her head. Bethany hit the wyvern with one of her frost spells and it froze momentarily. Fenris hacked at its shoulder, and Isabela darted in to plunge her own dagger into the wyvern's right eye. Then it became mobile again, and, hissing, it turned to face Isabela.

Hawke took this advantage and she dove underneath its belly. She lunged upward and plunged her dagger into its belly; it roared, turning around, and only succeeded in carving a deep furrow in its stomach. Hawke grimaced at the image of its insides as she rolled away again.

The wyvern was crying in pain now. It limped away, twisting its head balefully in an attempt to look at them. Then it opened its mouth and _spat_ at them; Hawke cried in shock, twisting away as a glob of yellow _something_ flew past her. It spat at them again, and now Hawke and her friends were on the defensive, dancing away from its poison. She noticed Tallis circling around the wyvern silently from the corner of her eye, and she understood instantly what the elf was doing.

"Hey, wyvern! Over here, you stupid ass-face!" Hawke yelled, swooping down to pick up a rock and hurl it at the wyvern. It hit the creature on the head, and the wyvern growled angrily, swinging around to face her. It prepared to charge.

Tallis leaped upward and landed on the wyvern's neck, locking her legs around it to keep her balance. It tossed its head around in a vain attempt to throw her off; she shoved her daggers, both of them, into the base of its head. It caterwauled in a sound that dwarfed every noise it had uttered earlier before it slumped to the ground, dead. Tallis calmly jumped off the wyvern and bent to clean her daggers.

"Anybody hurt?" Hawke asked tightly, turning to face her companions.

"Not too badly," Isabela answered, shrugging. The pirate queen had a long score on her arm, but the wound was very shallow, and Bethany immediately moved forward to heal it.

"None of us got hit by the poison, at least," Fenris replied, glancing around at them. His armor was scratched by the wyvern, but it appeared that most of the blood on his skin wasn't his.

"Good," Hawke sighed with obvious relief. Tallis walked over to them, sheathing her daggers.

"Well, let's head back to the chateau-" she began, before she was interrupted.

"Well, if it isn't the Fereldan turnip." Another Orlesian stepped into the clearing, sneering with a very heavy accent. Rage bubbled up under Hawke's skin and her face flushed a bright red as she turned slowly to face him. The idiot kept speaking. "I heard you were the champion of some backwater city in the east. Quite an achievement, I'm sure."

"Quite," Hawke agreed coldly. Her eyes narrowed, and she leveled a chilly glare at the man. "Can I help you?" He glared right back at her. Fenris stepped up to her side, glowering daggers at the Orlesian, his sword still in his hand. The man took no notice.

"I suggest you run along with your servants while you still can. This wyvern was mine to kill, not yours," he growled, gesticulating angrily. "Mine, mine, mine!"

"Are you drunk or something?" Hawke interjected. "You sound like my whiny bitch of a brother Carver when he was twelve." He scowled darkly.

"I paid good coin to be the one who wins this contest! It was my turn!" he snapped. The way he was yelling at her in his very prominent accent was very distracting, and Hawke might have thought it comical if he wasn't brandishing a sword and flanked by other armed men.

"Oh, I didn't realize the duke was offering charity to his more useless guests. My mistake," she sneered.

"I will not accept such talk from a backwater mongrel!" howled the Orlesian.

"You do realize this woman eats thugs like you for breakfast, I hope?" Tallis asked, smirking.

"Only when we're out of pancakes." Hawke shrugged.

"More insolence- and from a knife-ear, this time!" shrieked the man. "That's _it!_ Kill them all, we can say the wyvern did it."

"You're an idiot, don't you know that swords leave marks on a body that looks nothing like a wyvern attack?" Hawke pointed out, but the Orlesian didn't care. He charged right at her. She shrugged and dodged, whipping out her daggers in the same motion and stabbing him behind the knee.

"Bastard," she muttered as he fell, and she kicked him hard right where it counted.

"Now what is going on here?" The battle was interrupted by Duke Prosper, who strode into the clearing with his Chasind bodyguard and a few other men, looking vaguely amused.

"Prosper! This blasted she-bitch tried to steal my rightful kill!" whined the Orlesian, picking himself up off the ground and wincing.

"Now, Baron, is that any way to speak to the Champion of Kirkwall?" the Duke asked, arching an eyebrow.

"This is your fault for inviting a stinking turnip in the first place! Your mother would be ashamed," he sneered. A moment later a dagger was flying through the air to bury itself in his chest. The Baron looked down, his mouth open in shock, before he toppled over, dead as a doornail. Everybody glanced at Tallis, who shrugged, before turning to look at Hawke.

"He called me a turnip," she said innocently, batting her eyelashes before adding vehemently, "Bastard." Isabela howled with laughter. Bethany rolled her eyes, and even Fenris chuckled. Tallis just sighed. Duke Prosper was amused, however, and he laughed as well.

"Ah, the nerve of some of my guests," he sighed, then turned to Hawke. "Well, congratulations on finding the wyvern. It looks like a fine one, indeed! There will be a celebration in the chateau courtyard. I hope you attend, when you're ready."

"Thank you," she answered, grinning triumphantly, and he nodded and walked off.

"Stupid fool. It didn't need to come to that," Tallis sighed.

"If you're referring to the Baron- and I really hope you are- he did attack us first," Hawke pointed out, rolling her eyes.

"I know," Tallis answered with another sigh.

"Well, he didn't have to be rude!" Bethany scowled. "Turnip, indeed! What a jerk." Hawke chuckled.

"He had it coming," Fenris pointed out. "If we had allowed him to live, he would have come back later for revenge."

"We should go to the chateau," Tallis said, rolling her eyes as well. "Time for you to practice your table conversation!"

"And my Orlesian accent," Hawke sniggered.

"I think I can mimic a fairly decent one," Isabela remarked as they started walking back to Chateau Haine.


	15. Alone

_**A/N:**_

_**Oh my god, guys, I am so sorry for making you wait so long! After I posted the last story, I started working on the second chapter of my other story (Rising Tensions, Flaring Passions, if you haven't checked it out), and then I started working on another short story for this thing, before I decided I'd use this one as an interlude. Plus, I've been so busy rehearsing for my part in Sleeping Beauty, as well as homework and all sorts of other crap... Well, I finally finished this; I confess, I'm a little disappointed with the dialogue at the end of this particular quest, but whatever. I tweaked it a bit, I think, but only slightly. Anyway, please enjoy- next story will be MotA part 2 (sorry I'm making you guys wait, but as they say, you can have too much of a good thing! Well, it's not really possible when it's Felicia Day, but even I can only take so much of her xP).**_

* * *

><p><em>It is really freaking boring here, right now. I don't recommend hiding from authorities if you're not all set to sit around and let your brain bleed out your ears. Especially when you're with Fenris. He doesn't let us do<em> anything._ Sometimes he will let us wander out into the market, __if we're really careful, or if we sneak out, but he doesn't want there to be any chance of us getting caught. Me, especially... Anyway, point being, I have nothing to do for the moment- hopefully we'll move on soon- so I decided to write this story; hell, maybe it'll soften Fenris up and he'll let me go out. He's so protective... it's annoying, but it's really adorable at the same time. Buut mostly annoying._

_You reading this, hon? Lighten up a bit!_

_-Hawke_

* * *

><p>Hawke gritted her teeth, clenching her fists against her hesitancy before she turned to the door and scowled fiercely at it. Three years had passed since she'd made her decision with her mother; her mother's death didn't change that promise. Fenris still hadn't broached the subject, so now it was up to her. Her thoughts whirled in circles of turmoil: <em>What if he laughs at me? What if he tells me he never felt anything? Hell, what if it was all a dream? What if...<em>

She shook her head and thrust the door open, not even bothering to knock.

As usual, the mansion was dark directly upon entering, but what she didn't expect was the voices drifting back to her. What the hell was Aveline doing in Fenris's house?

Well, rather her than Isabela, anyway. At least with Aveline, Hawke didn't have to concern herself that she was trying to get Fenris in bed. She shook her head again to clear her thoughts and started up the stairs, pausing hesitantly to listen in the doorway to the drawing room, where Fenris was arguing with Aveline.

"Are you certain it's her?" Fenris was snarling as she approached.

"An elf matching your description on the ship you named. And alone, as far as I can tell," Aveline answered haughtily, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"I need to know if it's a trap!" The elf's fist fell with a loud _thump_ on the desk that rested in the middle of the room.

"I've done all I can, Fenris. Now it's up to you." Aveline, scowling, turned, and looked unsurprised to see Hawke there. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him," she added, exasperated, before she strode out. Hawke heard the mansion door slam and she lifted an eyebrow. She approached Fenris hesitantly.

"_Venhedis! Fasta vass!" _he swore in Arcanum, dropping his hands on his desk and leaning on them with a dark scowl to rival Aveline's. Hawke sighed inwardly with relief that she didn't have to broach the subject yet, but the relief quickly dissipated to be replaced by concern when she saw how distressed he was.

"Maybe it's just me, but I'd swear you're upset," Hawke said, her tone deceptively casual; she hoped he couldn't hear the anxious fluttering of her heart.

"It's my sister," Fenris spat, and Hawke flinched, eyes widening with surprise. "I didn't tell you, but I followed up on Hadriana's information... and everything she said was true. I had to keep it quiet, but I contacted Varania and sent her coin enough to come meet me. And now she's here." He straightened and met her gaze, his own eyes burning with intensity. Hawke crossed her arms and bit her lip, allowing her eyes to fall so he couldn't see her expression. She couldn't deny the hurt that surged through her when he admitted to not telling her about his sister. Maybe it was somewhat irrational- they weren't, after all, technically a couple- but it was definitely rather painful to know that he'd been hiding something from her.

"Where did you find her?" she asked, stalling a bit so she'd have more time to think.

"I found her in Minrathous... with no small difficulty, either. According to the men I paid, it's as Hadriana said; she's not a slave- she's a tailor, in fact. It was hard to get a letter to her, and she didn't believe me at first... but she finally agreed to come." He ran a hand helplessly through his shock of snow white hair, looking more anxious than Hawke had ever seen him. Sympathy surged through her at his obvious confusion. She ruthlessly shoved her down her own feelings of hurt in order to help him, as he was evidently hoping she would. She uncrossed her arms, allowing her gaze to snap back up to meet his, her expression back under control. Quickly dampened hope flickered across his narrowed green eyes, which almost instantly fell to stare at the ground.

"You think it's a trap," she stated quietly. "You think Danarius knows?"

"The more it seems he doesn't know, the more certain I am he does!" Fenris scowled, gesticulating angrily. Then he turned to face her full on, gazing intently into her eyes. "Come with me, Hawke." He hesitated, his gaze flashing with uncertainty, but his jaw tightening in determination. "I need you there when I meet her." She knew then that this was about more than just wanting protection in case it was a trap.

She didn't bother to think about it.

"Let's go," she answered readily, her icy blue eyes narrowing to an equally determined flint. "Where is she?"

"She's staying at the Hanged Man," Fenris replied, his body relaxing with relief. He stepped out from behind his desk and moved toward the door. He paused by the doorway, glancing back at her. His expression softened, revealing, for the first time in a long time, his true emotions. Anxiety flitted across his gaze, as well as hope that looked as if he was grimly trying to suppress it, manifesting itself in his furrowed brows and his wide, troubled eyes. "Thank you, Hawke. This... means a lot to me." He turned back to the door, so he missed Hawke's own startled expression. She then realized- with amusement- that rarely did she agree to do things for people and then get thanked for it, but Fenris's gratitude meant a lot more to her than she thought it would. She shook her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts for what felt like the millionth time that day, and, promising herself she'd get more sleep when all this blew over, she followed him out the door.

* * *

><p>"Maybe we shouldn't do this."<p>

Fenris had never sounded so uncertain to Hawke before. He rarely wavered in his train of thought, and he was always very determined with his rational frame of mind, but the mere prospect of family had him metaphorically trembling in his boots (not that he wore any). Although, she knew he had a tendency to run away when things got too complicated... she reflected sadly that she had first-hand experience of that. Maybe, if she convinced him to face his fears... She shoved this thought aside; today was about Fenris, not her.

The two of them stood poised before the entrance to the Hanged Man, the reddish rays from the setting sun draped over them. Fenris shifted his weight constantly, his gaze darting around like a cornered animal- like a caged wolf- and his hand kept twitching, as if he were about to reach for his sword hilt to fight invisible enemies. They had come straight to the bar without stopping to pick up anybody else, so it was just the two of them; Hawke was feeling more than a little reluctant about them walking into a certain trap alone (although she didn't mention the foreboding feeling that trickled down her spine). _If push does indeed come to shove, hopefully Varric and Isabela will be there to help us out. If I let him back out of this now, he'll never be able to face his fears._

"It's too late to back down now," she pointed out, not unkindly.

"But if Danarius is there..." Fenris looked torn; Hawke wasn't sure whether it was between wanting to see his sister and wanting to avoid Danarius, or between wanting to kill Danarius and wanting to protect her. She had a sneaking feeling that the only reason Fenris hadn't gone off to hunt Danarius was because of her. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

"Then we'll kill him, and you'll have your revenge," she stated firmly. "Either way, it's a win-win situation."

"How could you _possibly_ be facetious at a time like this?" he complained, but she knew he was stalling. Still, she couldn't help the lopsided grin that sneaked onto her face.

"Ah, don't complain. It makes you feel better too, just admit it." He opened his mouth to retort, but she just rolled her eyes and somewhat audaciously grabbed his hand. Ignoring his protests, she dragged him inside. "Enough stalling."

Not to her surprise, he dropped her hand as soon as they stepped into the building- what did surprise her, though, was how he squeezed it before he let go. And then she didn't have any time to ponder his action.

Instantly they laid eyes on the red-haired elf that sat there, waiting. She looked distinctly uncomfortable, the first sign that set off alarm bells in Hawke's mind. She was pale and dressed in shabby clothes, fit for an elven tailor in Minrathous.

"It really is you," stated the elf rather sadly, rising to her feet as they approached.

"_Varania?_" Fenris's tone was utterly shocked, and the matching expression on his face was priceless. Then his face fell, and his eyes narrowed in confusion. "I... I remember you," he stated slowly. "We played in our master's courtyard while Mother worked. You called me..."

"Leto," the girl interjected, still looking depressed. "That's your name."

"Fenris..." Hawke cautioned in an undertone, shifting uncomfortably, her gaze darting around, probing the corners of the bar. Nobody else was there but a few drunk men at a table near the doorway and Isabela, who was perched on her usual spot at the bar, watching avidly. Even the bartender was gone. Hawke's eyes narrowed and she reached for her daggers.

"What's wrong? Why are you acting so..." Fenris was watching Varania curiously, looking a little hurt at her indifference.

"Fenris, we should leave!" Hawke snapped suddenly, but it was too late. Movement flickered in the corner of her eye, and she whirled, her daggers seeming to leap into her hands.

She found herself facing a tall, proud man with gray hair and a beard that was cut in such a way as to make Hawke think irrationally of a monkey. He was dressed in the expensive clothes that Hawke imagined would fit a magister well, for that was undeniably what he was; her skin prickled with the telltale feeling that arrived whenever mages were nearby, an unpleasant buzzing on her skin. The man's eyes were a piercing gray color, cold and powerful, and lesser people would have fled or dropped to their knees before him. As it was, even Hawke couldn't keep from quailing slightly as the man towered over her, although he was several yards away. Fenris, however, stood his ground, despite the horror and then fury that darkened his expression. Hawke quickly recovered and glowered ferociously at the man, who just looked amused. He was followed by several other men- mercenaries, probably, and Hawke couldn't contain a quiet groan at their numbers.

"Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always," sneered the magister.

"I'm sorry it came to this, Leto," Varania murmured, sounding almost ashamed and still refusing to look at him.

"You led him here," Fenris growled, striding closer to his sister and drawing his longsword just as Hawke snapped, "Shut it, you two-timing little bitch."

"Language, language," Danarius drawled, and she made a rude gesture at him that only made him chuckle. Varania was quailing before Fenris, who looked about ready to kill her. "Now, now, Fenris," Danarius interjected, distracting the elf before he did anything rash. "Don't blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen should." He glided forward to stand beside Varania, and Hawke took a step closer to Fenris, her gaze narrowing.

"I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius," he growled, scowling at the ground. But then his eyes, savagely beautiful in his anger, snapped up to lock with Danarius's amused gaze. "But I won't let you kill me to get them!" Hawke's heart leaped in her chest, proud of his determination despite the delicate situation.

"Oh, how little you know, my pet," the magister chuckled. And then he turned his coldly calculating gray eyes on Hawke. Her icy gaze was narrowed to a flint, her chin lifted defiantly, and she glared right back at him. "And this is your new master, then? The Champion of Kirkwall? Impressive," he sneered.

"Fenris doesn't belong to _anyone!_" Hawke declared vehemently, despite the cold feeling that trickled down her back like ice water.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy?" laughed Danarius. "It's not surprising, the lad is rather skilled, isn't he?"

"_Shut your mouth, Danarius!_" Fenris roared, his irate green gaze flashing with a strange light. Fenris's lyrium markings glowed bright blue, brighter than they ever had; simultaneously, a dagger shot past Danarius's head, missing only because he disappeared with a swirl of robes to reappear on the steps, shielded by magic. Hawke and Fenris instantly turned back-to-back to fend off his mercenaries; out of the corner of her eye, Hawke noted Isabela and Varric jumping into the fray to help out.

These mercenaries were better than any Hawke had fought before- lots of money buys the best, she supposed- but still they were no match for a pissed-off Hawke and an even more furious Fenris. She found herself shrieking incoherently at the men, and every few seconds she would turn and hurl a dagger at Danarius, but the magic prevented it from connecting and she couldn't get to him personally. Fenris appeared to be having the same difficulties; he was snarling nonstop in Arcanum as he fought at her side, but neither of them wavered and their attacks flowed together seamlessly, better than they ever had before. The mercenaries were dispatched in a surprisingly small amount of time; once the last one was cut down, Fenris and Hawke hurtled toward the stairs and Danarius, but were instantly intercepted by shades.

"_Shit,_" Hawke hissed as they battled the demons. "Maker-damn blood mages!" Fenris growled his agreement. Their anger and adrenaline was slowly but surely starting to fade, and Hawke was now dreading the moment that Danarius would step into the fray. Fenris, however, never slowed, moving confidently, but she was beginning to see the slight, telltale waver of his sword.

"Come and fight us yourself, you coward!" she yelled at the magister when the battle hit a lull.

"At that, maybe I will!" snickered Danarius, and he disappeared again.

Hawke whirled, trying to figure out where he'd gone, until she heard a chuckle right in her ear. Only reflexes sharpened from years of training saved Hawke at that moment; she didn't even bother to turn, only hurled herself aside just in time to miss a bolt of spirit energy fly by. Unfortunately, she tripped over the bodies of some of the mercenaries, and she found herself sprawled on the ground with her arm somehow trapped under a heavy corpse as Danarius approached her, laughing triumphantly.

She began to despair; there was no way she could get up in time. He leered down at her, lifting his staff-

An inhuman roar of uncontrollable fury rang out, filled with such hatred and raw _anger_ that even Danarius stopped and turned and caused Hawke to jump in surprise. Suddenly Danarius was held in the air, his staff clattering helplessly on the ground and an armored hand curled around his collar.

"_You will not touch her!_" Fenris's markings glowed fiercely, but even they could not hide the furious expression on his face; his expression burned with a fervor that Hawke had never seen on him before, yet she couldn't flinch away; she could only stare, transfixed with amazement...

Fenris plunged his glowing hand into Danarius's chest, and a moment later the magister slumped over, dead. Fenris let go of the man's collar, and the corpse collapsed to the ground next to the staff. Fenris stared with disgust at his dead master and wiped his bloody hand off on the man's robes.

Hawke could only stare; she felt as if some barrier had fallen across her, rendering her incapable of moving. Standing there, glaring down at the corpse of his enemy, he looked like some kind of gorgeous, deadly war god.

Hawke blinked, realizing she was going into shock, and tried to force herself to get up, but the mercenary's corpse on top of her was too heavy for her to move.

"Hawke?"

His voice was velvet smooth, and filled with infinite concern. She glanced up and stared into his glowing green eyes, still shining with the last remnants of his anger. She saw such compassion in his gaze, though, that tears sprung to her own eyes and she looked away, blinking them away.

He moved the mercenary's body and reached out a hand. She accepted it, gratefully allowing him to pull her gently to her feet.

"Thanks," she mumbled, meeting his gaze somewhat shyly. Suddenly she found herself in his arms, wrapped in his tight embrace that she had longed for for three incredibly long years.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked quietly, his velvet voice rippling with anger.

"Not directly," she answered, just as quietly. "And you?"

"No." They both relaxed then, satisfied that the other was alright.

"Er, Hawke, Broody? You two probably want to deal with this."

Fenris and Hawke stepped apart, Hawke looking somewhat guilty but Fenris harboring no such inhibitions. His eyes sparked again when he saw Varric and Isabela blocking Varania from leaving, glowering at her with crossed arms. He strode over to them, his markings rippling again.

"I had no choice, Leto," Varania insisted pitifully, cowering before him. Hawke approached as well, watching with slightly narrowed eyes; but this wasn't her fight.

"Stop calling me that," Fenris snapped.

"He was going to make me his apprentice. I was going to be his magister," she went on- trying to explain herself, Hawke knew, but Fenris wasn't going to accept her apologies.

"You sold out your own brother to become a magister?" Fenris snorted contemptuously.

"You have no idea what we went through. What I've had to do since Mother died. This was my only chance," Varania said desperately.

"And now you have no chance at all," he snarled, stepping closer as his markings glowed again.

"Please- no! Tell him to stop," Varania begged, glancing at Hawke with wide eyes.

"Fenris, no," Hawke interjected, stepping forward and tugging gently on his arms. He turned and frowned down at her, but his lyrium markings grew dull again.

"Why not? She was ready to see me killed," he pointed out, but the fire was gone from his eyes. He glanced back down at her. "What is she to me but another tool of the magisters?" He only sounded sad and exhausted, now.

"This is your _family_, Fenris," Hawke replied gently.

"Elf... Fenris. Don't. It won't help. Trust me," Varric supplied, the omnipresent amusement for once gone. Fenris glanced sideways at the dwarf before he nodded slowly and stepped back.

"Get out," he growled, his tone laced with venom. Varania instantly turned and ran to the door. She paused just before she reached the entrance, glancing back. He must have heard her stop, but he didn't turn.

"You said you didn't ask for this, but that's not true," she told him quietly. "You wanted it. You competed for it. When you won, you used the boon to have Mother and I freed." Fenris turned then, his eyebrows drawing together in a tortured expression, his eyes wide with disbelief and shock.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, his tone sounding like a plea for her to stop.

"Freedom was no boon. I look on you now and think you got the better end of the bargain," Varania spat. She turned and strode out. Hawke's jaw dropped.

"Ungrateful little..." she growled, but she fell silent, glancing concernedly at Fenris, who had turned away again. He ran his hand through his hair- his right hand, baring the scarf Hawke had given him- and she saw his shoulders fall in a silent sigh as he turned back to them, misery written across his expression.

"I thought finding my family would give me a sense of belonging." He sighed, his shoulders slumped, his eyes trained on the ground. "Magic has tainted that, too. There is nothing for me to reclaim... I am alone." The breath hitched in Hawke's throat at his tragic expression.

"You still have me, Fenris," she whispered, her voice catching slightly on those simple words. He looked up at her, and his expression totally transformed. The sharp lines around his mouth softened and his eyebrows relaxed, but his eyes still sparkled sadly.

Hawke could now understand what Merrill meant when she said he looked at her with "puppy eyes".

She realized with a start that he was now less than a foot away. Their gazes locked intently. He lifted a hand, brushing it across her cheek, and her icy gaze flickered in surprise. He smiled sadly before he pulled away, turning and pacing away from her again. She cursed herself for not taking advantage of the situation, but quickly cleared her expression when he turned to face her again, the softness gone from his gaze. She managed to avoid touching her cheek, which tingled with warmth where he fingers had brushed it.

"You heard what Varania said," he stated, displaying his forearms and glowering down at them in disgust. "I competed for these. I _wanted_ them." His mouth twisted bitterly; peering closely into his eyes, Hawke could see his horror at what he'd done. "I feel unclean, like this magic is not only etched in my skin, but has also stained my soul," he admitted, wrinkling his nose. He tore his gaze away disgustedly, passing a weary and depressed hand over his features. "Let's go. I need some air."

"The stench finally getting to you?" Isabela snorted, kneeling by one of the corpses and rummaging through the dead man's belongings. Hawke shot her a glare, and the pirate queen only shrugged. Fenris just rolled his eyes and strode to the door. Isabela paused, her hand already deep in the man's pocket, and looked up at Hawke with a questioning expression. Hawke hesitated, before she gestured to Isabela to continue what she was doing and hurried to catch up with Fenris. Isabela nodded with a triumphant grin before she went on ransacking the corpses.

Fenris held the door open for her, and they both stepped outside. Hawke sucked in a breath of "fresh" air, remembering too late that this was Lowtown and there wasn't any clear air this far away from Hightown. She grimaced, tears jumping to her eyes at the stench of unclean people, beer, and the sewers. She wiped them away impatiently; at her side, Fenris couldn't contain a laugh. She glowered at him balefully, though her blurry eyes somewhat ruined the effect.

"Would you like me to walk you home?" she suggested quietly once her vision had cleared. He thought over it for a moment before he shook his head.

"I need to think." He paused for a heartbeat before adding, "Alone."

Hawke nodded, disappointed but unsurprised. She'd guessed as much.

"I'll come visit you later, then?" she offered hopefully. He shrugged, his expression now a total mask from even keen-eyed Hawke.

"If you like," he murmured. Then amusement flashed across his gaze- surprising Hawke, who arched a slight eyebrow- and he added teasingly, "I might still have a bottle of Agreggio, and we can celebrate." She snickered at his mention of Agreggio, and he lifted a confused eyebrow.

"It's nothing," she insisted, waving away his unasked question and recomposing herself. "Go home, Fenris. I'll see you in a couple hours," she added more seriously. He nodded and turned to leave before he paused, glancing back.

"Thanks, Hawke."

* * *

><p>For the second time that day, Hawke found herself frowning at the door to Fenris's stolen mansion. This time, at least, she had a legitimate reason. This time, she took the time to rap smartly on the door before she stepped inside, shutting it behind her. Yet again, she was surprised to hear voices up ahead of her. <em>Gee, I always have this sort of timing, don't I? There's always somebody else to deal with...<em>

Aveline and Varric were pestering Fenris to try to find a new place to stay, as he was technically living illegally in the dead magister's mansion, but he stoutly refused. Hawke leaned against the door frame, watching with amusement; she saw his gaze slide over to her and felt her heart stutter when his expression lit up marginally, although it glowed like a beacon to her. Finally, the Guard-Captain and the dwarf rose to leave; Hawke brushed past them, taking her favorite seat in an armchair across from Fenris's usual spot.

"They don't understand," he mused thoughtfully, his gaze trailed on the door as it shut behind the pair.

"Hello to you, too," Hawke muttered under her breath, and he flashed her an amused glance that quickly sobered again.

"I am free. Danarius is dead. Yet... it doesn't feel as it should," he admitted, leaning back in his chair and frowning thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Seems like you should be dancing for joy," Hawke remarked casually, her expression darkening somewhat but her eyes taking on that teasing glitter that masked her emotions so well. He considered her, his green eyes taking her in solemnly.

"I would have thought so," he agreed, lifting an eyebrow with a half-smirk that disappeared as quickly as it came. "I hoped that, without Danarius dogging my every move, I would be able to live as a free man." The sadness from earlier flickered across his expression again, and Hawke's heart ached. "But how is that?" he went on sadly. "My sister is gone, and I have nothing- not even an enemy." He scowled. Hawke's heart stuttered, then picked up double time.

"You're not reminiscing about the good old days of being hunted, I hope," she said, arching an eyebrow and inwardly hoping her facetiousness wouldn't upset him. Usually it didn't, though, and this time was no different. He laughed.

"Certainly not," he chuckled, before growing serious again. "It's just... difficult to overlook the stain magic has left on my life. If I seem... bitter, it's not without cause." He hesitated. "Perhaps it is finally time to move forward; I just don't know where that leads." He paused again, tilting his head slightly- reminding Hawke yet again of a curious puppy- and sizing her up before he asked softly, "Do you?"

She recognized her chance and blurted out her words almost without thinking, this time with no trace of sarcasm in her tone.

"Wherever it leads, I hope it means we'll stay together," she stated quietly; her icy gaze snapped with silent intensity as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"That is my hope, as well," he answered, to her utter- not unpleasant- shock. A slight smile played on his lips now, his expression somewhat softened. Her heart soared again, then sank with his eyes at his next words. "We... never discussed what happened between us three years ago."

"You didn't want to," she pointed out. He arched an eyebrow, and she added quietly, "Sometimes, Fenris, words don't have to be spoken to get a point across."

"I feel like a fool... I thought it better if you hated me for what I did, but it's not." He hesitated again, looking uncertain, but his eyes glowed with a curious light. He rose to his feet and approached her; Hawke inhaled sharply at his closeness. "That night... I remember your touch as if it was yesterday. I should have asked you forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now," he whispered, gazing intently into her eyes now. She saw fear mixed with determination flicker across his gaze, and she knew he wasn't going to back out now. But she had to know.

"I need to understand why you left, Fenris."

"I thought about that answer a thousand times. The pain, the memories it brought up... it was too hard," he admitted, but then his gaze flashed again as he said vehemently, "If I could go back, I would stay. Tell you how I felt." Her eyes widened slightly.

"What would you have said?" she whispered in a husky tone, her heart beating fast now.

"Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you," he answered in the same soft tones. His expression gentled, the hard edges disappearing, and in that moment, Hawke could see what she imagined to be his every thought laid bare, flickering across his expression. She reminded herself to breathe as she answered airily, "Oh, I don't know. This might be fun to hold over you a while longer," shocking herself at her sarcasm, but she was rewarded by the glitter in his eyes as he moved even closer. He took her hands and pulled her gently to her feet. Hawke felt a shadow drift away from her heart, and three years of pain and sadness seemed to be swept away with his simple touch.

"If there's a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side," he whispered in her ear, and kissed her.


	16. Mark of the Assassin: part II

_**A/N: **_

**Okay, well, I might need to split MotA into four parts, rather than just two. I guess I could do it in three, but the fourth part is original and not in the game at all, so ya'll will have something new to look forward to :p I made sure to get this one out quicker than the last one, to make up for it xP. I'll start working on part 3 ASAP, unless I get too distracted by a new story idea, Sleeping Beauty or ME3 (speaking of which, anybody else going to get that today? :p I still haven't actually beat the second one or even the first (cuz they don't have it on PS3) as I've been too busy playing DA xD) At any rate, I hope you enjoy the second part to MotA, and I'll see you again, hopefully sooner rather than later. Next part, we get to all the exciting stuff :D**

* * *

><p><strong>Mark of the Assassin: Part 2<strong>

Hawke and her friends approached the Chateau from the hunting grounds, all exhausted but triumphant.

"Ah, just wait for the stories Varric will tell once he hears we killed a wyvern," she said, grinning. She thought she heard a quiet sigh behind her; she twisted around to flash a grin at Fenris, who just rolled his eyes.

"Don't get too cocky now, the worst is yet to come," Tallis pointed out.

"All the more reason to enjoy our victory," Hawke retorted, smirking.

Hawke, Tallis and Bethany all took a quick opportunity to change out of their armor (and mage robes) and don stupid noble clothes instead (hell if Hawke knew where Bethany had picked up noble clothing, but she didn't care enough to ask). Hawke was the first to step back into the courtyard where the party was taking place, fidgeting uncomfortably. She hated wearing these clothes; they were way too stiff, not at all comfortable for fighting in: at least she'd drawn the line at skirts. She absolutely refused to wear skirts. As a general rule, she avoided noble parties in Kirkwall with some excuse or another, so she rarely worried about stupid noble clothing.

Fenris had been waiting for her, arms crossed and glowering at anybody that stared. He absolutely refused to change out of his armor; Hawke and Tallis had decided to continue with the charade that he was Hawke's bodyguard (or elfservant, depending on who you asked). Naturally, Hawke had a good laugh over it- as if the Champion of Kirkwall needed a _bodyguard_! Now he gave her a relieved glance as she approached and he relaxed visibly. Bethany came out next to them, her gaze flickering around. Isabela had slunk out of sight to keep an eye on things, ready to jump in if things went out of hand; Tallis just seemed to have disappeared.

"You look nice," Fenris commented to Hawke, and she grinned and stuck her tongue out at him. "Where's Tallis?" he asked, glancing around for the other elf.

"Poking around, I suspect," Hawke answered, shrugging.

"Unless she decided to ditch us," Bethany deadpanned.

"I seriously doubt that," Hawke replied cheerfully. Suddenly Tallis appeared in front of them out of seemingly nowhere, scowling with disappointment.

"I had a quick look around," she explained. Hawke shot Fenris and Bethany a triumphant glance as the elf continued. "There's only one door that leads straight into the chateau that isn't under heavy guard."

"And?" Bethany prodded.

"I can't get it open. And believe me, I tried! Bent a nice set of lockpicks on that door, too." Tallis scowled again. "One of the duke's guardsmen must have the key. They wouldn't just lock themselves out of the castle!... I hope."

"Why else would the party be in the garden? He probably has someone breaking a window right now," Hawke joked.

"I... could make that work, actually," Tallis snickered. "But in the meantime, let's find someone with a key."

"Right." Hawke turned to face the other two. "Tallis and I will go mingle. Fenris..." She hesitated before quickly making up her mind. She finished somewhat reluctantly, "you go with Bethany, and you two see if you can find out anything else." She was tempted to bring Fenris with her and Tallis, or send Tallis with Bethany, but frankly she wasn't sure if she trusted the strange elf with her sister, and she definitely didn't trust the Orlesians if they caught Bethany alone. Fenris's mouth turned down in a displeased frown, but he nodded in understanding and shot her a look that said _Be careful._ She smiled confidently back and was awarded with his slight, crooked smirk as he and Bethany walked away.

"So... where first?" she asked, turning to Tallis once they were alone.

"I suggest we start with the duke. He appears to be looking for you," the elf answered with a quizzical smile. Both rogues glanced back at the duke, who was being fawned over by a few partygoers, but he kept glancing around as if trying to pinpoint something. Hawke rolled her eyes, but she agreed and made her way over to the duke.

"Ah, at last, our mighty heroine!" he laughed in his annoyingly heavy accent, spinning to face the two as they approached. He grinned hugely, but Hawke thought he looked somewhat nervous... "The Champion of Kirkwall has the honor of first kill this day!" he announced to everybody nearby, and they clapped and cheered; Hawke gave a mock bow that sent several of them into snickers, but the duke didn't notice. He went on, "To hunt the wyvern on its own ground is to tempt fate, a terrible risk... but the prize!" He turned to Hawke. He was, she now noticed, holding something in his hands; he held it out to her. "I present to you this belt crafted of fine wyvern skin. Wear it well, and accept the accolades you are do," he proclaimed, handing it to her. She accepted it gracefully, refraining (with much difficulty) from examining it too suspiciously.

"If anyone wants to laud my heroic achievements, I'm happy to listen!" she replied amiably; the crowd cheered again. Duke Prosper chuckled.

"Well said!" he murmured to her; she just smirked.

Right then, some _thing_ over the Duke's shoulder roared angrily; Hawke muffled a swear as she peered over his shoulder and nearly had a heart attack. Just beyond the duke stood a large cage; inside the cage was a gigantic wyvern. _Holy shit..._

"Do not mind Leopold. My pet is always so temperamental before dinner," Prosper informed her, as if it was common to keep a _pet wyvern_. Hawke glanced sideways at Tallis and arched an eyebrow in an expression that said _What the HELL? _Tallis just shrugged and grimaced. Hawke quickly recomposed herself and turned to face the duke again, plastering a smile on her face.

"I don't suppose Leopold knows how to fetch or play dead?" she asked facetiously, skillfully masking her alarm.

"Alas, he seems to think its out duty to amuse him," the Duke answered, with a smile that was more like a leer. Hawke shuddered inwardly; luckily, he turned away from her then to face the other partygoers, lifting his glass of wine in a toast. "My friends, I officially welcome you to Chateau Haine. Enjoy this taste of Orlesian hospitality," he declared. His words were met by more cheers.

Hawke and Tallis slipped away from the insane Duke Prosper and his fearsome wyvern as fast as they could.

* * *

><p>"Maker's breath, the de Launcets shouldn't be allowed out in public," Hawke groaned in an undertone as she and Tallis extricated themselves from the Comtesse de Launcet and her daughters a while later. "Talking to them was probably the worst idea I've had all week. And I've unfortunately had quite a few of those."<p>

"Lady Elegant _did_ warn you to stay away from them," Tallis pointed out, snickering.

"Actually, what she said was 'don't make eye contact,' but she was right, nevertheless." Hawke grimaced, shuddering. "I mean, even I have better manners than to talk about man-whores in public..."

"You just keep telling yourself that, Hawke."

Hawke sighed. "Whatever. Let's go mingle with that bann over there. He looks familiar, I think, and Elegant said he's from Ferelden." She paused. "I've been wanting to hear more news of Ferelden," she added wistfully. Tallis didn't answer; Leopold chose that moment to growl loudly over in his cage. Both women tensed instinctively before they forced themselves to relax. The two made their way over to the Fereldan bann, both glancing warily over their shoulders. They paused near the Fereldan man.

"Champion!" The bann jumped up from his seat with obvious relief as they approached, extending his hand to shake Hawke's. She grinned, taking note of his firm grasp and deciding that this was a vigorous man; she pushed all thoughts of the wyvern to the back of her mind, knowing she couldn't do anything about it.. "It's good to see you again," he went on- Hawke quickly racked her brains in an attempt to remember where she'd met him before. It hit her almost immediately; the image of a Fereldan man quarreling with Knight-Commander Meredith inserted itself into her brain. "I'm sure you don't remember me." _Well, you might be slightly surprised there. You're too modest, _she thought. Too bad more governmental figureheads didn't have the aura of competence that this man did. "We met when King Alistair made his trip to Kirkwall- I'm Bann Teagan Guerrin." He smiled at her. He wasn't bad-looking, Hawke reflected in a detached manner. Not, however, as good-looking as Fenris.

"You'd actually be surprised at what I remember. Besides, do you really think I often intervene between Meredith and foreign heads of state?" Hawke asked, grinning. Then she paused. "Actually, yes, that's pretty normal for me." Teagan laughed.

"You remind me a great deal of someone I once knew," he commented. Hawke tilted her head curiously, but before he could elaborate, a blonde woman sitting nearby rose to her feet and drifted over to them, her expression vague but her gaze sharp like the crack of a whip.

"Teagan, who is this woman?" she whined with an annoyingly distinct Orlesian accent. Hawke glanced at her curiously; another memory flashed through her mind, this one of being curled up in her favorite armchair by her fireplace as a red-headed woman told her about some of her adventures in Ferelden. She recalled her friend's annoyed tone as she spoke about visiting Redcliffe; as a result, she knew instantly who this person was.

"Forgive me," the bann said graciously, turning to face the woman; Hawke caught a flash of annoyance in his eyes before he composed himself. "Isolde, this is the Champion of Kirkwall. Hawke, allow me to present you to Arlessa Isolde." Hawke's suspicions hadn't been wrong. She smiled at the woman and opened her mouth to deliver some sort of witty greeting, but the Arlessa only spared her a contemptuous glance and a short curtsy before cutting her off, facing Teagan with a petulant expression.

"Teagan, I must speak with you about the horrible things Dulci de Launcet said!" Isolde declared. _Maker's breath, what a bitch. What does Arl Eamon see in her?_ wondered Hawke.

"I... yes, of course." Teagan visibly suppressed a sigh. "Please excuse me, Hawke. It was a pleasure to meet you." He turned to follow the Arlessa, but he paused and glanced back with a crooked smile. "If you speak to Bann Perrin, I don't advise you to bring up the Chantry. Or... knickers."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Hawke replied. She turned and arched her eyebrows at Tallis, who just rolled her eyes.

"Looks like the rumors about the Arlessa aren't untrue," the elf commented.

"No, indeed." Hawke sighed. "Come on."

* * *

><p>"The guard doesn't have the key. He 'forgot' he gave it to a servant." Tallis scowled as she rejoined Hawke after attempting to "persuade" a guard to give her the key that they were looking for. "How does one 'forgot' about locking himself out of the castle?" Hawke shoved herself off the wall where she'd been keeping watch, arching an eyebrow with amusement.<p>

"He is Orlesian," she pointed out, grinning.

"That was very subtle earlier, by the way," the elf went on, rolling her eyes. She quoted from an earlier scene, "'If I die... make sure the world knows... _I died at Chateau Haine!_' Really, Hawke? Do you _have _to be so theatrical?"

"You gotta admit, it was pretty damn hilarious," Hawke snickered. "And it did get his attention, after all."

"Right, well..." Tallis eyed her oddly. "You know what, Hawke, I think you've had a bit too much wine."

"Maybe," Hawke admitted, her cheeks flushing a bit. She didn't protest when Tallis took her wineglass away and set it down on a bench nearby.

"Anyway, back to business," Hawke declared once Tallis had taken her wineglass away. "Let's go find this servant."

After a few more minutes of walking around and bantering with annoying people Hawke didn't know and wouldn't normally talk to, they found a little elf girl, holding a plate of food and looking distinctly uncomfortable. As they approached, the elf girl held out the tray and offered them "ham that tastes like despair" in a very heavy Orlesian accent.

"Who needs more despair in their diet? What is that good for?" Hawke wondered aloud.

"I heard artists are fond of it!" the servant answered with a small smile, which quickly faltered and turned to fright as she shot a sideways glance at Duke Prosper.

"I don't suppose you could take us to the kitchen?" Tallis asked kindly. "We'd like to speak with the cook..."

"I don't know. I shouldn't leave my post..." The servant hesitated with another glance at the duke. Hawke wondered at it.

"What a scandalous reprieve from olive duty! Think of what the other servants will think," Hawke pointed out, smirking. The elf grinned in reply.

"The upstairs maids will be so jealous when they find out! Very well, follow me."

_Like master, like servant, _Hawke thought with amusement as Tallis followed the elf. Orlesians could be so predictable. Well, some of them. Hawke's gaze drifted around the courtyard. _Holy shit._

Speaking of unpredictable Orlesians...

Hawke made her way back across the courtyard to a red-headed woman who was speaking quietly with some man. As she watched, the man nodded to her and walked away. She approached the woman and stopped next to her.

"Leli?" she asked, almost disbelieving her eyes.

"Rathina!" Leliana exclaimed, turning to face Hawke, her eyes widening somewhat with surprise and then softening again with pleasure. However, Hawke didn't miss the shrewd glint in her old friend's eyes, a glint that she hadn't observed until recently. She reflected once again, with some sadness, how much they had both changed since Lothing. "I didn't expect to see you here," Leliana continued.

"Me neither," Hawke answered with wry amusement. "I probably pissed off all the nobles in Kirkwall by coming here instead of going to their parties and catering to their every whim. You know how I hate parties." Leliana chuckled.

"Well, I'm glad to see you, anyway," she said, smiling.

"Maybe I shouldn't be surprised to see you here- you always turn up at unexpected times, don't you?" Hawke asked, amused. "Always in the thick of the action!"

"Yes, I-" Leliana paused then, frowning. "What are you up to, Rathina?"

"You see-" Hawke began, but she broke off when Leliana's gaze drifted to something over her shoulder.

"Tallis!" she blurted out. Hawke furrowed an eyebrow at the familiarity in Leli's expression, and the surprise that mirrored Tallis's when the elf approached. Tallis's strange misty eyes were narrowed slightly with what appeared to Hawke as suspicion.

"Leliana! It's so... lovely to see you again," Tallis said, looking a little reluctant.

"I get the distinct impression you've met before," Hawke remarked, arching an eyebrow. She fiercely quashed a sting of jealousy that soured her tongue. _Don't be ridiculous, Rath..._

"Oh, briefly. A long time ago," Tallis asserted uncomfortably.

"You meet all sorts of people in Orlais! It keeps life exciting," Leliana answered cheerfully, but Hawke could see suspicion in her eye too as she faced Tallis. With an inward sigh, she knew she wouldn't get a direct answer out of either of them as to how they'd met. There was obviously something deeper here, but whatever it was she wouldn't learn today.

"Well, I'm glad you two had this chance to catch up," she said in her trademark sardonic tones in a vain attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yes, it was... very... fortuitous. We shouldn't take up more of your time. I'm sure you have things. To take care of. Right now." Tallis shot Hawke a meaningful glance and started walking away. Leliana looked a little disappointed.

"I'll catch up with you in a sec, Tallis," Hawke called. Tallis shot a glower at her but she kept walking.

"How have things been in Kirkwall?" Leliana asked, lowering her voice. Hawke grimaced.

"Getting worse," she answered grimly, her tone just as quiet. Her sharp eyes glowed with curiosity, flitting back and forth between Leli and Tallis's retreating form, but she knew better than to ask. "Meredith and Orsino are still snapping at each other's throats. It's not going to take much now to tip the knife." She sighed. "Sebastian and I are still having trouble getting the Grand Cleric out."

"Keep trying," Leliana insisted, her gaze flashing. "That stubborn woman! She's going to get herself killed!" She sighed as well.

"Don't worry, Leli. We'll do our best," Hawke answered, her tone rising back to normal, summoning up as much confidence as she could.

"You be careful too, Rathina, with whatever it is you and Tallis are planning," Leli cautioned, reflexively reaching out and grabbing her wrist. The two women stared into each other's eyes for a moment before Hawke nodded slowly.

"As always, Leli. Take care. I'll see you around!" she answered with a slight smile. Leliana released her arm and curtsied with a worried frown. Hawke nodded in response and turned away, moving quickly to catch up with Tallis.

"What was that about?" she asked the elf with some annoyance.

"It's just- I- Look, Hawke, we don't have time to make small talk with everyone we see," snapped Tallis, looking oddly distressed. "Let's just find the key and do what we came here to do, all right?"

"Fine," Hawke replied, still annoyed, but she decided it was pointless to stay angry at Tallis. She probably had her reasons, anyway. "What did the little servant girl say?"

"She gave it to Lord Cyril," Tallis answered with a sigh. "You know, Duke Prosper's son." Hawke realized now that Tallis was leading her over to him, and she muffled another sigh.

Lord Cyril greeted her cheerfully; Hawke imagined he had a bit of a possessive glint in his eyes when he gestured for his friends to go away so he could speak to her and Tallis alone. She managed to convince him to go have a private "word" with Tallis. As before, she kept watch as they "spoke".

* * *

><p>This time, Tallis returned within a surprisingly short amount of time, looking despondent.<p>

"Please don't tell me he gave it to his father," Hawke sighed.

"No, he definitely has the key." Tallis scowled.

"Not Lord Cyril's type?" Hawke guessed, smirking.

"Maybe he just doesn't like elves. Or... women." Tallis arched an eyebrow. "Well, you've got one of those factors covered. Go get the key." She grinned; Hawke glowered. "Oh, come on, Hawke, it's your turn now. Go on!" she insisted.

"Seems like I could save time and just assume the plan will fall apart from the start," Hawke commented with a sigh, turning to face the door that Tallis had just exited.

"It hasn't fallen apart, it's just... not entirely cooperating with reality." Tallis grimaced, then smirked. "Good luck, Hawke." Hawke gave her a long-suffering glare.

"Thanks," she retorted pointedly before opening the side door. It appeared that Tallis and Lord Cyril had disappeared into some sort of roomy storage closet; Hawke shut the door behind her apprehensively. She quickly masked her features behind a flirty smile as her gaze met Lord Cyril's. He was watching her with the same odd, desiring glint from earlier; he stood at the other side of the room, but he approached her slowly when she stepped inside.

"Tell the elf that her pleas are for nothing," he told her with a scowl, looking disgusted that an elf would try such a thing. He stopped a few steps away from her and added musingly, "She's pretty enough, I suppose. No doubt there are some men who would like that sort of thing."

"I thought you might be a man of... refined taste." Hawke smiled at him, fluttering her long lashes like she'd seen some of the other women at the party do, suppressing a pang of guilt for what Fenris would think if he knew she was doing this. Hopefully he would understand. Unsurprisingly, Lord Cyril stared, his eyes glinting.

"I have a great appreciation for beauty," he answered delicately, a desiring smile curving his lips as she moved closer. She leaned in, whispering alluring words in his ear as she reached behind him and pulled the keys out of his belt. She slipped them into her pocket as she pulled away.*

"Why don't we talk again after the party?" she suggested, still smiling alluringly. She turned and sashayed out of the room, feeling unclean, like a whore. Like Isabela.

* * *

><p>"You got the key! Please tell me you got the key!" Tallis begged when she stepped outside.<p>

"What would you do if I said no?" Hawke asked, her eyes glittering. Tallis faltered, but when Hawke held up the key, she brightened again.

"Excellent! Now we can find the... jewel... and get this thing over with." Tallis paused, looking a little despondent, and Hawke arched an eyebrow.

"You don't sound too excited," she observed.

"It's just been a long time coming, that's all." The elf sighed.

"The jewel is that important to you?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Yes, I suppose it is. I want this part of my life finished," Tallis declared.

"So soon? I heard they were just about to bring out the candied nug," Hawke complained laughingly.

"Let me ruin it for you: it tastes like forgotten aspirations," Tallis informed her, her misty gray eyes gleaming now.

"Ah, you've crushed all my hopes and dreams!" Hawke groaned theatrically, placing a hand on her chest. Tallis rolled her eyes.

"Let's just go find the door."

* * *

><p>Hawke inserted her key in the door; it swung open quietly. Tallis, Fenris, Isabela, and Bethany all watched, looking apprehensive, except for Isabela, who looked faintly amused like always.<p>

"We're in," Hawke whispered. She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody else was watching. It was dark, now, but the party was still going strong; luckily, most people were too drunk to notice that the Champion had slunk off. Probably they guessed that she was off with Lord Cyril, anyway.

"We can't all go," Tallis pointed out in a low tone.

"You're right," Hawke agreed, somewhat to Tallis's surprise. "If we're going to sneak through a chateau, it's probably best if there are only two of us."

"You don't even have weapons," Fenris objected, scowling at her decision. She glanced at him and tipped her head with a skeptical expression.

"You think rogues ever go unarmed?" she asked, with a slight smirk. Then her expression softened. "Don't worry, Fenris, we'll be fine."

"You'd better be," he growled.

"If we're not back by morning-" Hawke began.

"Then I'll storm through the castle and kill everyone in my way until we reach you." His eyes blazed. He reached out and grabbed her waist, pulling her closer.

"That's my wolf," she chuckled, before pressing her lips against his.

After a moment, Tallis cleared her throat pointedly, and Hawke drew away with a slight smile.

"Good luck," Bethany whispered.

"Don't get caught," Isabela snickered. Hawke just rolled her eyes and waved as she followed Tallis into the chateau and shut the door behind her.

* * *

><p>The next few hours consisted of sneaking through the chateau, picking up pieces of damaged Qunari amulets, and poisoning wyvern food, but not necessarily in that order. Hawke and Tallis crept through the chateau with practiced ease, as both were very accomplished rogues.<p>

It was easier, Hawke reflected, to kill men instead of throwing stones to draw their gaze away. They tried to avoid hitting guards over the head to knock them out, since that attracted attention.

At some point they stumbled into the kitchen, where Hawke mixed up a very efficient poison and dumped it into Leopold's food dish, muffling giggles the whole time. Tallis just watched with exasperation; but, Hawke decided, if they were going to do this, they were going to do it all the way.

Besides, she loved messing with Orlesians.

They also came across part of what appeared to be a Fog Warrior's amulet. Unsurprisingly, it bothered Tallis that she was stealing it, but she knew Fenris would appreciate it. She made sure to keep an eye out for the rest of the amulet.

"That's the Vault." Tallis's voice was low. They had just entered a fairly large room with a fairly large door at the other end of it; unfortunately, it looked to be difficult to get across. Bars cut off little portions of the room, including a square that surrounded the door opposite them, so they felt like they'd been imprisoned. Hawke's gaze swept the room, and she took note of little raised panels next to some of the bars.

"Perhaps we have to stand on the panels to get across," she suggested. Tallis immediately strode over to one of them, and some of the bars lifted.

A half hour later, Hawke and Tallis had finally figured out the puzzle, and they were standing in front of the door to the Vault, staring at it apprehensively.

"It's now or never," Hawke sighed finally, and she pushed the door open. As she stepped into the next room, a feeling of foreboding swept over her; her fingers twitched toward the daggers that weren't there. She comforted herself by reaching for one of the knives that she'd hid in her sleeves. She sensed Tallis standing right behind her. Tallis shifted, glancing around warily.

"Something wrong?" Hawke asked, her gaze scanning the new room.

"I don't know." Tallis ran a hand through her hair. Then the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed behind them; Hawke whirled around to see Duke Prosper and several chevaliers enter the room. "Yes," Tallis answered with a sigh, grabbing some of her own hidden knives.

"Don't fret, my dear," the duke purred as more chevaliers poured into the room, surrounding Tallis and Hawke. Hawke's gaze snapped from man to man, noting weaknesses and advantages, and plotting how to get out of there as fast as she could. However, a sinking feeling in her belly told her that she and Tallis couldn't fight her way out of this.

"I see the party's moved indoors?" she asked charmingly, buying time.

"It's not over yet," Tallis warned, staring at the duke.

"But it is over!" he answered with a leer. "I knew who you were the moment you arrived... _assassin_."

"Assassin? I knew it!" Hawke whirled to face Tallis, her gaze accusing, all but forgetting about the chevaliers that surrounded them. That off feeling she'd had earlier about Tallis was now confirmed.

"You... did?" Tallis stared at her in surprise.

"Have you met my friends? All of them are crazy, and most of them are killers," Hawke pointed out, arching an eyebrow.

"Clever girl!" sneered the duke. "Have you also deduced that your elven friend is Qunari?"

_Qunari!_ Hawke quickly stifled a gasp.

"I don't care what she is," Hawke lied, glowering. "Everyone's got to have a job, don't they?"

"My, she chose you well, didn't she?" snorted the duke.

"Look, I came to stop the Heart from doing something we will all regret. She didn't. Leave her out of this!" the elf snarled defensively.

"And waste all the effort I spent luring you here for the Heart's arrival? Don't be foolish!" growled the duke. Tallis snapped something Hawke didn't understand in a different language- Qunari? Orlesian? Duke Prosper retorted in the same language before he turned away in disgust. "Take them away!"

A chevalier grabbed Hawke's arm roughly; she struggled fiercely to kick him off. His grip only tightened before he brought his fist down hard on her head. Stars erupted before her eyes and then she toppled over, unconscious.

* * *

><p>"I can't decide if somebody hit me over the head really hard or if this is a really bad hangover... Or both," Hawke added after a moment of thought. Her head felt as if it was imploding; it hurt like hell. She shoved herself to a sitting position, eyes still closed, hoping she'd been dreaming...<p>

"Probably both," came a somewhat worried snort from somewhere to her right.

_Dammit._ Not a dream, then.

She opened her eyes, blinking hard for several moments to readjust them, to see Tallis watching her anxiously. Her gaze drifted sideways and she rubbed her bruised skull with some confusion before the scene in front of her made sense.

They were in a prison cell.

They were trapped.

* * *

><p><em>*Extra points if you can guess what Hawke whispered to Lord Cyril. Because I certainly couldn't xP<em>


	17. Sister Nightingale

**A/N:**  
><strong>I wrote this story to get a little more insight on the relationship between Hawke and Leliana, and Fenris's reaction to it. It's kind of smutty, but it's only a filler- next story will be MotA part 3. Enjoy!<strong>

* * *

><p><em>I had this friend once in Lothering... Well, she was in several of my previous stories, so you know who she is, at least. Anyway, I had the good fortune of running into her again just before everything fell to the dogs. Unfortunately, I don't know where she is now, although Varric says he's seen her. Looking for me. With the Seekers. Some friend now, eh?<em>

_At any rate, this story is the result of my nostalgia. Here it is!_

_-Hawke_

* * *

><p>"Why are we here again?" Fenris scowled. At that moment, Hawke and her merry little band of misfits were hesitating warily on the threshold of the Chantry. Hawke herself wasn't extremely religious; she tried to avoid the Chantry as much as possible (without seeming to do so, out of respect for Sebastian) because of her track record, so even she was a little furtive.<p>

"I'm not sure," she answered airily to disguise her discomfort, an action that was immediately negated by her next statement. "Hopefully this won't be something that couldn't have been solved by a quick meeting at the Hanged Man," she added with disgruntlement, allowing annoyance to seep through her tone. She led them up the steps to the little balcony in the middle of the room, where Sebastian stood with his arms crossed belligerently, evidently arguing with Grand Cleric Elthina.

"Do you never intend to give a public answer, Your Grace?" he was demanding as they stepped into earshot. Hawke had just enough time to reflect on her good fortune to always arrive at places in the middle of somewhat sensitive conversations before Elthina replied to Sebastian's accusation.

"What have I been asked?" the Grand Cleric croaked, old age slowing her speech slightly. As if she didn't already know the answer; certainly, Hawke already knew what topic Sebastian was about to preach.

"About the mages! You could calm this fire if you stepped forward!" Sebastian insisted, eyes narrowing slightly.

"The Chantry's teachings are clear. Those who turn against them would not listen more to me than to Andraste."

"Mage this, templar that. Is there anywhere in Kirkwall people don't talk about this?" Hawke remarked, stopping in between them and crossing her arms as well. Her comment was facetious, but the complaint was honest, and it showed in her eyes as she stared the both of them down.

"No, and I've looked, believe me. Even the rats in Darktown are following in this mess." Varric rolled his eyes. Hawke broke her aggressive posture then as she lifted a hand to her mouth to disguise a snort as a hacking cough.

"The last time mages rebelled against the Chantry, they ended up ruling Tevinter. Should we just ignore them?" Sebastian growled, unwilling to back down.

"I knew I liked you," Fenris commented. Hawke looked over her shoulder and exchanged an amused glance with him, hiding another chuckle behind her hand.

"I did not expect things to deteriorate so fast," stated the Grand Cleric, and Hawke almost guiltily reverted her attention back to the matter at hand. "I thought, after the Qunari, no one would wish for more violence." The Grand Cleric sighed. _Well, you thought wrong,_ Hawke thought wryly. "It has drawn more attention than I would like. Sebastian, if I can ask-"

"Anything, Your Grace," Sebastian answered, his blue eyes flashing with relief that she finally decided to do something.

"And the Champion, too, if you will?" she added, turning to look appraisingly at Hawke. _Eh, what the hell. Rather this than whatever the mages or templars or whoever wants of me now. It's not as if I never accept requests without hearing what they are first._

"I can't imagine any way this will go wrong," Hawke answered aloud, barely refraining from rolling her eyes. Sebastian shot her a warning glance, and she blinked guiltily.

"What would you have of us?" the Starkhaven prince asked after a moment.

"The Divine is concerned about the situation here. She doesn't want to see the Free Marches become another Imperium. She's sent an agent to... assess the situation." The Grand Cleric paused for a quick moment before continuing. "Meet with her, please. Tell her drastic measures won't be required."

"I don't want to see the Divine's armies marching on Kirkwall," Hawke agreed with grim amusement.

"Can we keep the 'exalted marching' to a minimum, please? I keep all my stuff in Kirkwall." Varric sighed theatrically.

"Surely the Divine wouldn't treat the _whole city_ as enemies," Sebastian said, his eyes a little wider than usual. With those big blue eyes, he looked almost as innocent as Merrill. This thought gave Hawke another fake coughing fit. Fenris arched an eyebrow at her; her eyes twinkled in his direction.

"She is concerned. It is never wise to draw the attention of the powerful," Elthina answered with another sigh once Hawke's hacking had abated.

_Well, at least we agree on something._

"She is the voice of Andraste. She cannot turn the might of the Chantry against the innocent due to... proximity," Sebastian insisted, looking appalled.

"Were no innocents harmed in the Exalted Marches?" the Grand Cleric pointed out, her already flinty eyes narrowing. "She will do her best, Sebastian, but she must act first to protect the faith." Hawke bit her lip, imagining Kirkwall in flames with Seekers marching all over the city. After all she'd done for this Makerforsaken place, the least she could do would be to convince the Divine to focus her attention elsewhere. On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be as easy as Elthina made it sound.

"What can you tell me about this servant of the Divine?" Hawke asked slowly, lifting an eyebrow, finally growing serious.

"I wasn't told her real name, only to call her Sister Nightingale. She is said to be called the Divine's left hand, sent to do work that might blacken the Divine's name," Elthina replied with an air of foreboding. Hawke nodded, intrigued.

"What shall we tell her?" she wanted to know.

"The Divine has heard my protests already; I must trust your own powers of persuasion now," the Grand Cleric answered regretfully. Hawke ran a hand through her hair and exchanged another loaded glance with Fenris; _How does she expect me to succeed where she herself has failed?_ The elf just grimaced and shrugged.

"We'll go right away," Hawke said at last. Elthina looked utterly relieved.

"Thank you, Hawke," she said. "Sister Nightingale will be waiting in the viscount's office room tonight- she wishes to remain... unseen. It's been guarded after the Qunari attack, so it may be difficult to get in without attracting attention," she added warningly. Hawke just nodded.

"Let's go," she ordered the others, a teasing gleam in her eyes so they wouldn't get offended by her command. Sebastian joined her flock and she shepherded them out of the Chantry.

* * *

><p>"Thank you for doing this, Hawke," Sebastian said to her ardently as they started up the stairs to the viscount's vacated office. "We cannot allow this... ridiculous mage rebellion to turn into holy war."<p>

"You're right," Hawke agreed fervently. "It's stupid, the Divine doesn't need to involve herself in this." She noticed him give her a surprised glance from her periphery, and she shrugged. She could be serious sometimes, too.

She paused outside the door to the viscount's office, frowning at it.

"The viscount's office has been sealed since his death," Sebastian observed, as if reading her mind. "Strange place for a holy sister to be."

Hawke lifted an eyebrow as a trickle of recognition prickled down her spine, although she couldn't understand it right away. "Strange indeed," she agreed with a frown. She pushed the door open, only to find it locked; Isabela stepped forward and unlocked it for her without being asked. Her gaze twinkling maliciously, the pirate queen stepped back again, and Hawke went on through the door, glancing around warily as she did so.

Naturally, they were attacked as soon as they passed the threshold.

Some mage wailed about the Divine being afraid- the Divine? Afraid? Ha! What a dumbass- before shooting a ball of spirit energy at Hawke, who promptly rolled out of the way. _Idiots. _It appeared to be several apostates- at least one of them a blood mage- and a few assorted demons. Typical. They were quickly dispatched, as by now the team was used to picking off demons and blood mages.

Hawke heard more footsteps running into the room. She turned to see two more scared-looking mages crowding together as they glanced nervously around, realizing quickly that they were outnumbered.

A new set of footsteps approached from the shadows, these ones slow and confident. Hawke again felt that strange sense of familiarity before she turned to see a red-headed woman striding toward the mages. A gasp of shock died in her throat and she stared, dumbfounded, as the woman dropped what appeared to be a smoke bomb. When the smoke cleared, the mages lay dead at the woman's feet, and she was re-sheathing her daggers, her back to Hawke and co.

"Holy _shit,_" Hawke murmured under her breath, gazing flabbergasted at the woman's back. No one heard but Fenris, who shot her a concerned glance.

"The Resolutionists," spat the woman. "I might have known they would be part of this." She turned then to face Hawke and her flock. Surprise flitted across her beautiful sapphire blue eyes, and Hawke's heart thudded strangely; she thought she'd never see those eyes again. She hadn't seen or heard from her friend in a long while; she'd almost reached the conclusion that she had died in the Blight.

"Leliana," she breathed, stepping closer so as to better observe the Sister. She was definitely still the same Leliana, if a little older and her hair a little redder, but if anything, she looked even better than she had when Hawke had last seen her. Leliana's perfect mouth dropped into a slight 'o' of surprise, and they gazed at each other wonderingly. Hawke suddenly realized she was staring and she quickly composed herself, tossing an elated, somewhat sheepish grin at her old friend. "You've been doing well for yourself, I see! It appears your skill with daggers has improved, no less!"

"Thanks, in no small part, to you," Sister Nightingale answered, grinning in response, her gem-like eyes dancing. "I haven't forgotten the tricks you taught me." Isabela whistled, and Hawke felt her cheeks warm as she realized that she and Leliana had been ignoring the others. She stepped back, glancing sideways at Fenris with an almost apologetic expression. He was watching Leliana, though, with slight suspicion in his eyes.

"Hawke, you know Sister Nightingale?" Sebastian asked, arching an eyebrow as he eyed the pair skeptically. Leliana tore her gaze away somewhat guiltily.

"Yes. Leli and I were... old friends, back in Lothering," Hawke answered, unable to stop grinning giddily.

"Leliana... as in the one who traveled with the Warden?" Sebastian's gaze was now more curious than skeptical. Fenris looked unsurprised, Hawke observed; she now remembered mentioning Leliana to him before, albeit in passing. In Kirkwall, they had more pressing concerns than Hawke's friends in Lothering.

"Yes, but that was many years ago," Leliana asserted. (She was much more confident now, too, it appeared.) She paused hesitantly. "The Warden is an excellent queen for King Alistair, but now I'm working for the Divine, in Orlais. I hadn't thought to come to this part of Thedas..." She glanced around somewhat quizzically.

"Well, I'm glad you did," Hawke answered warmly. Isabela coughed pointedly, and Hawke shot an annoyed glance at her.

"Isabela, is that you?" Leliana asked, amused, lifting an eyebrow at the pirate queen, who leered at her.

"It's nice to see you again, Leliana," Isabela purred, her eyes flickering appreciatively. "Although last time I saw you, you were..."

"You said something about Resolutionists," Hawke interrupted quickly, glowering at Isabela, who just shrugged. "Who are they?"

"An offshoot of a fraternity within the Circle," Leliana answered, but was cut off by Fenris.

"Supported by the Tevinter magisters," he snarled, moving forward to stand beside Hawke with a slight motion of his hand. Hawke shot a pointed sideways glance at him and his gaze flickered slightly in response, but he didn't back down.

"There's no proof of that," Leliana answered mildly.

"I bet a lot of mages think they'd enjoy Tevinter's freedoms... and completely forget that few ever achieve the power to enjoy them." Fenris snorted.

"There have always been factions that support freedom from the Chantry and the abolition of the Circle. We have... tolerated them. But the Resolutionists have become violent, and are likely behind the unrest here." Leliana frowned thoughtfully, glancing curiously at Fenris and then back at Hawke.

"This is Fenris," Hawke quickly inserted. "He was... a slave to one of the magisters, so he would know what he's talking about." She laid her hand on his arm comfortingly. She was instantly aware of his taut, coiled muscles.

"I see." Leliana's expression fell with sympathy. She turned to Fenris; in the corner of her eye, Hawke observed his slightly mortified expression, but he knew that she didn't bandy that information around lightly. "I honor your courage, my friend," she said sorrowfully. Surprise shot across his own passive expression, and he only nodded to accept her words. Hawke's hand tightened reassuringly on his arm. "Back to the matter at hand," Leliana continued, turning back to Hawke, "the Divine has long suspected that this tension was spurred by an outside group. This attack-" she gestured around at the apostates' corpses- "proves she is right."

"Did you know they would attack?" Hawke wanted to know, getting down to the nitty gritty.

"I let word slip that an 'agent of the Divine' was coming to investigate the situation. It's how they choose to react which condemns them," Leliana replied with a bitter half-smirk. Hawke grimaced as well. _Real smooth, Leli. That was a dangerous move._ But it wasn't her place to rebuke her, so she let it be.

"Will the Divine send soldiers?" Hawke asked after a moment, concerned.

"Divine Justinia takes the situation here very seriously," Leliana stated firmly. "She believes it is the worst threat to Thedas since the Qunari invaded."

"A handful of apostates?" Sebastian snorted skeptically. "How can that possibly...?" His voice drifted off as disbelief twisted his expression.

"The whole world is watching Kirkwall. If it falls to magic, none of us are safe," Leliana warned. A grisly image flashed across Hawke's mind, then, of Kirkwall burned to ashes with mages standing triumphantly over the ruins, littered with bodies, and a bloodred sky. She shuddered inwardly. "Tell Elthina to leave. There is refuge for her at the Grand Cathedral in Orlais." Remorse twisted Leliana's expression. "She will not be safe here."

"I must go tell the Grand Cleric right away," Sebastian decided, looking somewhat horrified. Obviously a similar vision had occured to him.

"I'll come visit you tomorrow, Sebastian, in case you need help convincing her," Hawke answered, and he nodded gratefully before he strode off purposefully.

"If that's all, then..." Varric lifted an eyebrow, and Hawke nodded. He grinned gratefully. "See you tomorrow Hawke, Broody." He exchanged a glance with Fenris before following Sebastian.

Hawke turned back to Leliana, who was watching curiously.

It was accepted then, without speaking, that their business discussion was over, and a more casual air fell over the group. All three of them- Hawke, Fenris, and Leliana- relaxed noticeably, though Fenris less so than the girls. Hawke watched him out of the corner of her eye; he always appeared somewhat uncomfortable in public, and rarely did she ever see him relax completely. She drew her attention back to Leliana, who was looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Leli, are you spending the night in town?" Hawke asked conversationally.

"I was going to leave in the morning," Leliana confirmed, tilting her head in curiosity. "Why do you ask?"

"I have a really nice guest bedroom at my mansion," Hawke informed her with a mysterious gleam in her eyes. "Much better than some of those extremely questionable inns. You're welcome to it tonight, if you like."

"That would be lovely," Leliana answered with a radiant smile. Hawke wasn't unaware of the subtle, curious glances she kept shooting in Fenris's direction.

"Shall I walk you home, before more mages jump out and attack us?" he suggested then, his tone slightly acidic. Hawke shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye, slightly confused.

"Excellent idea," she agreed after a moment with a quickly suppressed grimace as her gaze flitted over to the shadowy corners of the room. Then her face fell slightly; she realized that he wasn't planning to spend the night at her mansion, as he'd been doing more often lately. "Luckily, my mansion is nearby, so we won't have to walk too far," she added, her tone somewhat heavier, to Leliana, who only nodded.

"Lead on," the Orlesian invited, gesturing her friend forward. Hawke summoned up a grin and started walking back to her mansion, Fenris striding along almost protectively at her side.

* * *

><p>"This is a beautiful mansion," Leliana complimented when they arrived at Hawke's house.<p>

"It is," Hawke agreed proudly, with a trace of sadness in her tone. She glanced sideways at Fenris, who was glancing around as if trying to figure out how to excuse himself politely. "Go on inside, Leli, Bodahn will help you get situated. I'll be there in a sec," she added. Leliana chuckled under her breath and nodded acquiescence before she went inside. Hawke left the door open a crack, warm light spilling out, as she turned to face Fenris and took his hands in hers.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" she asked softly, her expression gentling as all trace of sarcasm and cynicism fell from it, her mouth dropping into a disappointed frown. He hesitated, leafy green eyes staring into sapphire blue, before he shook his head.

"You ought to catch up with your friend," he answered with a slight, somewhat regretful smile. She opened her mouth to protest, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Hawke fell silent, feeling her heart pound raggedly at even such a simple gesture. The sadness in his gaze confused her.

"Fenris, I... you don't have to walk me home like you're my bodyguard or something," she said, her gaze hardening a little at the mention of his past life. "You're welcome to stay, Leliana or no Leliana, you know that. We don't have to hide from what we... are, together." She brought their entwined hands to her lips and kissed his, proving her point.

"I know," he answered, lowering his gaze, as if ashamed.

"Well... what's the problem, then?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"You and your friend are... very close, no?"

Hawke, flabbergasted, stared at him for a full fifteen seconds before she threw her head back and roared with laughter. He stared back at her, his own eyebrow arched in uncertain confusion.

"Oh, dear... Fenris... me and Leli... not like that," she managed to gasp out in between snickers. She sobered somewhat at his stricken expression. "We're just really good friends. We go a long way back," she explained, still attempting to stifle fits of hilarity.

"I saw the way you looked at her..." he began, still confused, but she shook her head violently, the last traces of amusement fading at his expression.

"I promise you, Fenris, it's nothing like that," she assured him quickly. "It's just been a really long time since I last saw her." She shook her head again to dispel memories, wrapping her arms around him despite his cold armor and hugging him tightly. She felt his arms tighten around her. "You needn't worry, dear heart. My heart belongs only to you," she murmured in his ear, and she felt him relax, practically radiating relief.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, sounding aghast that he could have accused her of such a thing.

"No, I'm sorry for confusing you," Hawke answered, her tone genuinely chagrined. "I don't think I've ever told you about her before. But whatever she and I might have had is now a thing of the past." She paused, her expression lifting with hope as she leaned back to look him in the eye. "So are you going to stay?" He considered before he shook his head again, and as before her expression fell, and she bit her lip uncertainly.

"But-" she began disappointedly, and he chuckled, waving her off mid-sentence.

"No, Hawke. I'll leave this evening to you and Leliana so you two can exchange stories." He stated this with more confidence, now, and despite her disappointment Hawke felt a flash of relief that he trusted her. Not that she would have done anything anyway, but it always gave her a warm glow when he got that trusting glimmer in his eyes. "You can tell me all about it... later," he added with more open amusement in his grin. She giggled at his playful expression.

"I look forward to it," she answered, grinning in response, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him passionately. "I love you," she added in a whisper before she turned and darted into the mansion, feeling like a schoolgirl who'd just been walked home by her biggest crush.

* * *

><p>"What kind of wine is this?" Leliana asked, staring at her glass appreciatively. Hawke burst into a fit of giggles, probably brought on by the rich wine, setting her own glass of wine down on the table so as to not knock it over in one of her spasms of laughter.<p>

"Agreggio Pavali," she managed to gasp out. Leliana, confused, lifted an eyebrow, waiting patiently for her to elaborate. Hawke continued to snicker uncontrollably.

"What's so funny about Agreggio?" Leliana asked finally. "I mean, they say it's supposedly so expensive that only Tevinter magisters can buy it..." She lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't steal it, did you?"

"No," snickered Hawke. "Well, not exactly..."

"_Rathina,_" Leliana chastised teasingly, her blue eyes glittering with amusement.

"I snatched a few bottles from Fenris's mansion a while back," she explained, still grinning hugely. "So he wouldn't shatter them all on the wall." She paused. "Rhyme unintended."

Leliana arched an eyebrow. "And... he hasn't noticed?"

"Oh, I'm sure he noticed, but I don't think he really cares," Hawke replied, shrugging. "He knows I'll put them to better use than he does." Leliana chuckled reluctantly and rolled her eyes.

"And if he asks for them back?"

"I'll give them to him," Hawke answered simply, pain flickering for a moment across her expression. Leliana examined her thoughtfully.

"So, you and Fenris are...?"

"Yup," Hawke confirmed, grinning in that stupid schoolgirl way again. Leli considered this for several moments before she changed subjects.

"I've heard some of your exploits since you came to Kirkwall, but I can tell most of these are false," she stated at length, arching an eyebrow as she waited for Hawke's answer.

"You want me to tell you everything that's happened since I arrived in this hellhole?" Hawke asked, amused. "Sure, if you promise to make a really good song out of it once I'm finished." Leliana laughed.

"Whatever you ask, Rathina."

* * *

><p>Hawke spent the next hour and a half detailing her exploits in Kirkwall. Leliana- always the avid listener- gasped, laughed, cried, etc. at all the right parts. Leliana was silent for several moments once she had finished.<p>

"Wow," the Orlesian breathed finally. "Rathina, I heard tell of some of your adventures, but... I didn't realize..."

"How hard it's all been?" Hawke finished wryly. "Yes, well... Varric likes to spread highly romanticized versions of the actual tale. I'd pay ten sovereigns to hear him speak honestly about me." Leliana finally cracked a smile, if a small one. Hawke's expression darkened as she gestured around them heavily and went on, "Well, now you know why I'm all alone here in this giant mansion."

"I'm sorry," Leliana answered with quiet sympathy. There was a beat of silence before Hawke conjured up another of her smiles, forcing herself to think positive again.

"I still have Fenris, though," she answered. She gave a dry chuckle and added with dark humor, "Sometimes, I feel as though he's the only bright spot in the haze of darkness that is my life..."

"Very poetic," Leliana complimented, her eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and pity. "I rather think you should have been a bard."

"I'd've made a pretty damn good one, too," Hawke retorted, grinning. She leaned back, stretching her arms over her head with a massive yawn. "Though I can't imagine that it would have been any more thrilling than life in Kirkwall. Being a Champion is hard, you know." Leliana laughed. Hawke sighed inwardly with relief; she'd finally managed to steer the conversation away from all the dreary stuff.

"So, I've been wondering- why do all your friends call you Hawke instead of by your first name?" the redhead asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Ah, that." Hawke grinned. "It's an old habit from the army, I think, asking them to call me by my last name. Plus, it sounds more fear-inducing and professional than 'Rathina'. And I think Varric likes the nickname." She paused. "I don't mind," she added hastily at Leli's skeptical expression. "I'm honoring my father by carrying on his name."

"Fair enough," Leli conceded, yawning as well.

"You should probably get off to bed," Hawke remarked after another comfortable moment of silence. "What with all the traveling you're going to have to be doing. Don't want you sleepwalking off your boat." Her eyes glittered with amusement.

"Yes, I'm sure that will happen if I don't go to sleep right this instant," Leliana chuckled, rising to her feet. "Thanks for the hospitality, Rathina."

"My pleasure," Hawke answered with a wry grin. "It was nice to see you again, Leli."

* * *

><p>Later that night, Hawke was awakened by movement in her dark room. She heard a slight <em>click <em>as the door was closed and then the sound of muffled footsteps on soft carpet. She obediently shifted over in her large bed, and a warm figure slid under the covers beside her. She smiled blearily.

"You came."

"Sorry for waking you."

"No, you're not."

The bed shook as they both chuckled quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping guest. Hawke felt fingers brush against her forehead followed by a soft pair of lips. She sighed contentedly.

"I see you've finished off another bottle of my Agreggio."

A startled peal of laughter burst from her, and she buried her face in his muscular shoulder to keep from laughing out loud.

Once she could speak again, she assured him laughingly, "It was very tasty."


	18. Mark of the Assassin: part III

_**A/N: So, finally, what we've all been waiting for. The third part of Mark of the Assassin! This concludes the DLC itself, but there will be a companion piece soon detailing what happens to Hawke directly after this- you'll see what I mean when you reach the end of this story.**_

_**Anyway, thanks so much for the reviews, guys! I think I usually forget to thank you for the time you take to comment on my stories. It really makes my day when you do, even if I don't get around to answering all of them personally. Just know that I really appreciate it every time someone clicks that 'Alert', 'Favorite,' or 'Review' button. **_

_**Also, if you want to check it out, I wrote an actual SHORT story for Easter, but I published that separately from here. Anyway, so, thanks for reading, and without further ado, the MotA part 3!**_

* * *

><p><strong>Mark of the Assassin: Part 3<strong>

"I have a question. When I told you what I was, you said you didn't care." Tallis hesitated. "Was that true?"

Hawke sighed. Great. She was stuck in a cell with this Qunari assassin and a major hangover, and the Qunari assassin wanted to play 20 Questions. This definitely wasn't on her list of top ten things to do when she had free time.

Then again, she had free time so rarely that she doubted if she could come up with ten things to do in her free time.

Well, number one would definitely be hang out with Fenris... But she did that on a daily basis, so would that count?

"I'd've said he couldn't compare to your awesomeness, but that would've seemed petty," Hawke drawled; her head hurt too badly to think of anything more clever. Tallis chuckled wryly, although Hawke didn't miss the odd look she shot her out of the corner of her eye.

Meanwhile, Hawke's untrustworthy brain was trying to run down two paths- her conversation with Tallis and things she would do in her free time- although it wasn't working out very well.

Two: burn Anders's manifestos. She got a warm feeling in her belly just thinking of it. There must have been more of those things littering her mansion than there were rats in Merrill's shitty excuse for a house.

"I really am sorry about all this. It didn't work out like I planned... obviously," Tallis told her with a grimace.

"What was your plan, exactly?" Hawke asked, forcing herself to focus on the matter at hand.

Three: give Fenris more reading lessons. Unless that counted as falling under number one? Anyway, they had unfortunately slacked off with the lessons as the tension in Kirkwall grew closer to breaking point, a source of great annoyance to the both of them. She missed the late nights they would spend together poring over the letters

"The one I expected to find was named Salit, a member of the Ben-Hassrath, the... Heart of the Many." Tallis faltered slightly and flickered another glance at Hawke, who arched an eyebrow, recognizing the name of the jewel Tallis had claimed they were searching for. Then she scowled with pain, pressing a hand to her forehead, when the act of lifting a single eyebrow shot fire through her skull. Stupid Orlesians and their strong wines. Stupid chevaliers who loved hitting people over the head... "I was told he's here to sell secrets to the Orlesians, and I came to stop him. I... suppose I was misinformed," Tallis went on regretfully.

"Well, isn't that just a bite in the ass," Hawke grumbled under her breath, still rubbing her head. _Maker's breath, I've drunk poisons that left my mind clearer than this. _ Naturally, that only made her think of a new activity to add to her list.

Four: learn some new recipes for poison. She sometimes tired of using the same old poisons. It was fun to come up with her own, though, usually by mixing two kinds of potions together. Those could have interesting effects, especially when mixed in with certain spells, as Anders and Merrill would attest. She smirked slightly at the thought.

"You mentioned the Heart of the Many before, but you said it was the name of the jewel," Hawke probed, only half-paying attention.

"It's also what Ben-Hassrath means. Some people say we're enforcers that keep the Qunari in line, but that's not necessarily true." Tallis hesitated again. "It's hard to explain."

"Try," Hawke snapped, the edges of her temper flaring. She was tired of playing games, tired of being lied to. She wanted answers.

Plus, her hangover was contributing to her anger. Also the fact that she couldn't seem to focus her mind.

Five: write letters to all her old friends and family. At least, what friends she had left. Leliana, mostly, but she'd also heard a rumor that she had a cousin in the Fereldan Circle of Magi who had joined the Grey Wardens recently. What was her name? Amell, surely. Hell if Hawke could remember the girl's first name in her current state. Perhaps this cousin knew the Hero of Ferelden...?

"We're... the soul of the Qun. We keep its spirit alive and protect it... from both outside and from within." Tallis sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Not every Qunari agrees, though. Nor do they always do what is best for all... The Ben-Hassrath remind us of our common goal."

"You make them seem almost peaceful," Hawke noted, arching a brow, able to pay attention for a brief moment.

"It's not always meant to end in violence. There are other paths. They do not all need to lead to the same destination." Tallis paused, gazing at the ground. "I probably don't sound very convincing."

"The way you're talking... it sounds like you're one of these... Benn-Hassrath." Hawke stumbled a little over the unfamiliar word, but she really tried her best to pronounce it well in her hungover state. It probably came out rather slurred. Well, the elf seemed to understand what she meant, at least.

"I was... or, I was. Whether I am again... I guess that remains to be seen." Tallis shrugged unhappily.

"Is that why you're here? To redeem yourself?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Not to them," Tallis replied vaguely. "Doubt is the path one walks to reach faith... To leave the path is to embrace blindness and abandon hope," she added thoughtfully.

"Another Qunari proverb?" Hawke guessed wryly. Tallis's gaze twinkled with amusement for the first time in several minutes- which was good, because the dreary stuff was starting to wear on Hawke.

"'She who swallows wisdom in tiny chunks avoids choking,'" the elf quoted, and Hawke smirked.

Six: Look up more proverbs. They sounded smart.

As it appeared that they weren't going anywhere anytime soon, Hawke racked her brain for something else to talk about. Naturally, she landed right back on Tallis and their current predicament.

"So you came to stop this Salit from betraying your people?"

"Yes, but... this isn't a political mission, like you're probably thinking. It's personal." Tallis looked grim again.

"Personal how?" Hawke inquired.

"Salit was the one who recruited me into the Ben-Hassrath. My tutor. He convinced me I could make a difference with the Qunari," Tallis answered, her gaze flickering with nostalgia.

"But you said he was selling secrets," Hawke reminded her, her icy gaze hardening.

"He is. Or, he intends to, as a final act of defiance... I can't let him do this, not when he'll hurt so many others in the process," Tallis insisted.

"You mean more Qunari?" Hawke guessed.

"Not every Qunari is a soldier, you know," Tallis replied, her gaze hardening as her speech grew more passionate. "There are tens of thousands of Qunari out there- artisans, craftsmen... People who have never hurt anybody. They don't deserve what Salit is going to do to them," she persisted hotly. Hawke nodded slowly, as if she understood, although this was only making her head swim worse than it already was.

_Maker, where are the others? Hopefully Bethany can heal my head..._

"So did you really involve me just because I have an invitation?"

"You were the only one on the invitation list who didn't have a close connection with the Montfort family," Tallis pointed out, arching an eyebrow, as if surprised that Hawke hadn't guessed this already. "But you're also the Champion of Kirkwall... and a Fereldan with no reason to love Orlais."

"I haven't much of a reason to hate them, either," Hawke retorted. "Ferelden's war with Orlais ended before I was born. We've coexisted peacefully with Orlais since then."

"Not quite so peacefully as of late, if what I've heard is correct," the elf replied quietly. Hawke's mouth opened into a slight 'o' of surprise at the insinuation that Ferelden and Orlais were at each other's throats again, although now she did recall King Alistair mentioning something about Orlesians "swooping down on Ferelden". Hm. Now that she thought about it, she really didn't know all that much about the war between Ferelden and Orlais all those years ago.

Seven: Read up on history. That could be useful; it sounded like it was about to repeat itself. _You'd think some people would learn..._

"Well, whatever. Politics are too delicate for me to discuss, they give me headaches," Hawke decided. She glanced up at the ceiling, grimacing, and tried to guess what time it was. "I suppose the good news is, with all this extra time, I could learn to knit," she mused. _Hm, that can be number eight on my list... Mother always wanted me to learn how to knit._

"Could you make me a sweater?" Tallis asked hopefully.

"No."

"Damn." The redhead sighed. "Well, the first order of business is to get out of here before His Grace decides we'd taste good in his soup. Any ideas?"

"Well, the others will be on their way here by now," Hawke replied confidently. She lay back on an uncomfortable mattress of straw on the floor, content to wait for Fenris and the others. Her head hurt too badly to try any stunts herself.

"If you say so," Tallis sighed, sitting down and leaning against the wall.

* * *

><p>"Bloody runaround twisted shite of a maze," Bethany swore colorfully.<p>

"Ooh, looks like our little mage has learned a few new words," Isabela chortled. Naturally, she was the only one who wasn't particularly perturbed by wandering lost around the dungeons of Chateau Haine.

"Not everything in the Circle is high literature," the mage pointed out.

"And I suspect most of that you got from Isabela," Fenris guessed. By unspoken consent, the three drew to a halt. Isabela's gaze darted around, probing the shadows like a cat, although her stance was still; Bethany's arms were crossed, a glower fixed on her pretty features, as she tried to work out which way to go; and Fenris was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to find Hawke. "Now what do we do?" growled the elf, almost totally certain that they'd searched every square inch of this damn dungeon.

"Well, I could guess the color of your underclothes again," Isabela replied cheerfully, picking a seemingly random corridor and starting down it.

"What's that?" Bethany asked, not five minutes later. She had stopped beside a little chest and was peering down at it curiously. The lewd rogue knelt beside it, smoothly picking the lock.

"That was so easy, it was almost insulting," she mused, picking up a few familiar-looking knives from the chest and rising to her feet. "Since we've got Hawke's and Tallis's armor and Hawke's daggers, these must be Tallis's knives and Hawke's extra weapons." It was no secret to them that, besides her two daggers, Hawke kept several other small knives hidden on her person, especially when she wasn't wearing her armor. Isabela recalled loaning Hawke her thigh sheathe right before they had left Kirkwall.

"We must be on the right path, then," Fenris estimated, his face passive but his leafy gaze glittering with anxiety.

"Hopefully," Isabela agreed, her tone uncharacteristically wry. They continued walking, their pace faster than it had been earlier.

* * *

><p>"Alright, I'm tired of waiting," Tallis declared. For all Hawke knew, it could have been hours or just a few minutes later, but it had been long enough for her to fall into a light doze. She forced herself to sit up again, pressing a hand to her head, and watched between narrowed eyelids as Tallis picked the lock on the cell door and it swung open.<p>

"You couldn't have just done that before?" Hawke asked dubiously, rising unsteadily to her feet. Tallis shot her a humorous glance.

"Well, you said your friends were coming," the elf pointed out, stepping out into the corridor on light feet. Hawke stumbled after her, grimacing. Before they could say or do anything else, they heard footsteps echo down the hallway in front of them; Tallis tensed and Hawke shifted warily from foot to foot, in no condition to fight. The world swayed in front of her, and her head pounded. The ground tipped and she stepped sideways, leaning against the wall to keep from falling over.

"Hawke, there you are!"

Hawke found herself gathered up in warm arms, and she pressed herself close against him despite the cold armor. Her head spun horribly.

"What happened? We searched all over for you," he breathed into her ear. Then he pulled back, holding her at arms-length, and frowning at the top of her head, which he could see easily because of her size. "You're hurt."

"Yeah, the chevaliers conked me hard before they dragged us in here," Hawke answered ruefully. She lifted a hand and touched her head gently; her fingers came away red.

"Here, let me," Bethany offered softly, stepping forward. Magic shimmered from her fingers as she healed Hawke's wound. Mercifully, the pounding headache went away, so finally she could think and see clearly again.

"Oh, thank you, Bethany," Hawke sighed, rubbing her head, but there was barely a bruise remaining as evidence of the hit she'd taken.

"You're welcome, sister," the mage answered with a small smile.

"What happened?" Fenris repeated. Hawke glanced back at him; he was scowling darkly, his eyes hard as emeralds.

"We got caught by the Duke, who revealed that Tallis is a Qunari assassin," she answered, her brows furrowing somewhat. "Apparently she's searching for some Qunari who's trying to sell secrets to the Orlesians, not a jewel."

"Oh, so you were actually paying attention," Tallis answered, sounding pleased.

"I usually do, contrary to popular belief," Hawke replied, amused.

"You're Qunari?" Isabela stared at Tallis and gave an involuntary step back.

"Yeah, and I'm aware that you guys don't have a happy history with them," the elf responded with a grimace.

"Isabela especially," Hawke commented, although this time she wasn't really paying much attention. She was holding Fenris's hand, gazing up at him with a small smile playing on her lips. Her broody elf was looking thoughtful; his expression sent tingles of delight up her spine.

"Well, I guess it makes sense now," he decided, looking unfazed by Tallis's revelation. He turned his gaze back down on Hawke; now it was darker with concern. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Positively spiffy," she answered with a slight grimace. It wasn't the complete truth, though; her head still spun a bit, and there was a slight ache in her stomach, but she attributed it to her hangover, or maybe she was just hungry. His brow furrowed, although he didn't question her anymore.

"Thanks for coming to rescue us," she added, more quietly, her gaze shining with intensity. She rose up on the balls of her feet to give him a quick peck on his lips, which immediately turned up into a slight smile.

"You would have done the same, I'm sure," he answered humorously. "I never thought we'd have to come rescue the mighty Hawke from a dungeon."

"Yes, and I expect a very satisfactory reward!" Isabela interrupted, stepping in between them with mischief gleaming in her eyes.

"Ah, just wait till we get back, Isabela." Hawke winked at the rogue, and she was rewarded with her armor and weapons being returned to her. Hawke and Tallis gratefully retreated to remove the uncomfortable noble clothes and replace them with the armor.

"Right, now that's out of the way," Hawke said once she was back in her armor, feeling more comfortable with the familiar weight of her daggers in her hands. "I guess we have to go back through the castle now," she added reluctantly.

"There are some tunnels that lead from the dungeon out onto the mountain," Tallis suggested then. "We can take those, if you'd rather avoid needless bloodshed."

"That would be preferable," Hawke agreed without really pausing to consider it. "Lead the way."

"We're still following her? Wonderful," Isabela grumbled under her breath. Tallis ignored her and led them on. By unspoken consent Hawke and Fenris waited for the others to pull ahead before taking up the rear of the party. Hawke slipped her daggers back into their sheaths and reached for Fenris's hand, lacing her fingers in between his. They strode along that way in silence for several minutes before he spoke up.

"You frightened me," he told her quietly.

"Me?" Hawke asked, startled. "Well, that's a first."

"Before we found you, there was a moment when I..." His voice broke off, and her heart clenched in sympathy. "_Don't_ do that again," he added roughly, exasperation coloring his tone. Unable to speak for a moment because of the sudden lump that rose in her throat, she only squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"I won't," she whispered hoarsely after a moment. "I'm sorry."

He drew to a sudden stop and yanked her to his side, pressing his lips against hers firmly.

* * *

><p>"An underground lake." Hawke whistled with amazement. "I could use one of these." She was rewarded with one of Fenris's crooked smirks, and her heart skipped a beat. <em>That could be number nine on my list. Yeah, I'll build a lake! Sandal would have so much fun with that.<em>

"The hell?" Isabela agreed, her lovely almond eyes looking puzzled with a perfect eyebrow arched over them.

They were still in the stone tunnels that led out of Chateau Haine; Hawke's best estimate was that they'd been traveling through these tunnels for around an hour, and already she was beginning to feel more than a little claustrophobic at the thought of being inside a mountain. It could be worse, though; she could have been in the middle of the Deep Roads again. She shuddered inwardly at that thought.

They stood on a little wooden bridge, and Hawke had paused to step close to the edge of the bridge to look at what the bridge crossed. It was a fairly large lake, with stalactites and stalagmites poking out of it and down towards it. A stone column partially blocked her view.

"The Retreat needed to house hundreds- if not thousands- of people during the Blight. Can't do that without fresh water," Tallis pointed out.

"Oh, no, how could I have totally not guessed that?" Hawke commented dryly, still a little pissed off at Tallis for lying to them.

"So they built a lake underwater," Fenris mused, ignoring Hawke, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

"It must've taken them a long time," Bethany remarked, peering at the water and stepping back with a shiver. Isabela snorted.

Hawke cast an anxious glance at the ceiling, studded with spikes of rock; she, too, shivered and started moving again.

"Come on, let's get out of here," she stated.

They hadn't gone a hundred feet before they were attacked by the Duke's Chasind guard, whatever his name was. Tallis had gotten trapped on the other side of a gate and run off, so Hawke, swearing colorfully, darted into battle with Fenris and Isabela at her sides.

And then, about midway through the battle, a knife sailed out of seemingly nowhere to imbed itself in the wooden bridge, right next to the Chasind man. He shot it a surprised glance before shaking himself and glancing up; Hawke followed his gaze to see Tallis crouched on top of a boulder with a wicked smirk.

"Missed! That would have been a nice shot, too!" Tallis complained.

"Maker's balls, Tallis, even _I _could have thrown a knife better than that," Hawke heard Isabela growl under her breath. She didn't think she'd ever heard Isabela growl.

"Did you think I was leaving?" the elf went on, glancing over at Hawke and winking before she dove into the fray. Hawke sighed with a mixture of relief and annoyance, but she continued fighting.

They took out the Chasind guy quickly enough, but the main problem was the mages he'd brought with him.

"Where the hell does this guy find mages?" Hawke wondered aloud to Fenris as they waited for the final mage's magical shield to fade.

"Hawke, you especially should know that apostates wander all along any country," Tallis pointed out, and Hawke just sighed again. They took out the last mage right away, as soon as his barriers faltered.

"Well, that was bracing," Tallis mused, crouching beside the mage to see if he had anything good on him.

"I thought you'd left!" Hawke accused, her icy gaze narrowing.

"I found a way around," the elf answered with a breezy shrug as she rose to her feet. Her gaze sharpened then, and she turned to look at Hawke full-on. "I told you I'd get you out of here, and I meant it."

_Well, Tallis may not be completely right in the head, but at least she's got her priorities straight._ Hawke exchanged a glance with Fenris, and to her amusement, he appeared to be thinking the same thing; he had a single eyebrow lifted, his mouth quirked in a bemused but humorous smile.

"Let's keep going, the exit can't be much further," Tallis added.

"Maker's breath, finally!" Hawke would have sprinted right out of there if Fenris hadn't pulled her back so they could finish looting the bodies. She found a nice staff on that final mage and gave it to Bethany; the Chasind man had an ax, which she gave to Fenris, and a key for the gate that Tallis had been trapped behind earlier.

* * *

><p>They continued on. The tunnels grew narrow again, and bright; Hawke found herself shivering, although it wasn't particularly cold. As a matter of fact, the tunnels were warmer than they had been before the big lake.<p>

"You alright, Hawke?" Tallis asked concernedly. The others watched with similar expressions.

"Just a little cold," Hawke lied cheerily, restraining her growing impatience. Maker's breath, they acted like she was a temperamental mage that was about to turn them all into large toads if they didn't appease her. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"Would you like to stop?" Fenris asked her, his gentle tone slightly lowered.

"No, I'm fine," she snapped. "Let's just get out of these blasted tunnels." He looked unconvinced, but he nodded anyway.

They continued on through the tunnels, fighting through more ghasts in a cave that was noticeably brighter.

"And there's the way out," Tallis announced, once the ghasts were all dead. She stood at the other end of the cave, facing away from Hawke; in front of her were two tunnels, one to the left and the other to the right. She turned to face them again with a wry smirk. "See, I told you I had a plan. It was a good one, with an escape and everything." Hawke leaned over to peer behind Tallis, down one of the tunnels.

"Not a monster lair. That is a good sign," she remarked wearily. She thought she felt Fenris stiffen slightly at her side.

Tallis also glanced back at the tunnels. "So, you could go. There are, however, other options..."

Isabela, standing at Hawke's side, shifted, looking a little eager.

"Don't get too excited," Hawke warned her with a smirk, and the pirate shot her a pleading glance. Hawke rolled her eyes teasingly and glanced back at Tallis. "Such as staying here? I suppose there's room for a cot, but where would we put the dinner table?"

"On top of the ghast corpses," Bethany suggested with a small smirk.

"Well, that would keep all the nobles away, at least," Hawke mused.

"Look, Hawke, you've been reasonable ever since we were captured," Tallis told her, her misty gaze narrowing intently. "I'm hoping that hasn't changed. What Salit is going to do will harm so many innocents- your people, too, not just mine. It's my duty to stop him. Even so, I can't do it alone, not anymore."

"After everything you've already done, why should I help you again?" Hawke asked, more curious than accusing. She already knew she would help, unless Tallis gave her a really pathetic excuse; after years of living in Kirkwall, watching innocents being killed and harmed- "collateral damage," as some said- was just unbearable. It made her feel sick and helpless. She did the best she could to keep her city free of crime, but she was just too late for some people. She didn't regret those she had killed; she regretted the ones she hadn't saved.

"Because... I've got your nose." Tallis grinned, reaching out toward Hawke's face and pulling her hand back again, holding up her fist and somehow reassembling her fingers so it looked like a nose. Hawke snickered, forcing herself to think positive again, although her heart still felt heavy..

"The Qun taught you that, I suppose?" she asked, smirking.

"If I was following the Qun, I would actually have your nose," Tallis pointed out. At Hawke's expression, she sighed. "I suppose that doesn't help. If I had my way, you would never have been this involved in the first place."

Hawke considered that thoughtfully before asking her next question.

"What did you have in mind, exactly?" Tallis looked pleased.

"Well, we can go back, have some tea with the Duke, get to know one another. Then, just as he starts to trust us, you slip a bag over his head, and we drag him to Antiva," the redhead suggested with a teasing smirk.

"No, not Antiva, you fiend!" Hawke teased, wagging a finger at Tallis. "It's too full of assassins, and... Antivans."*

"_Or_ we could find out when Salit is arriving, and stop him before it's too late," Tallis finished, still snickering.

"That sounds like a better plan," Hawke agreed, growing serious again. "You certainly know how to argue. But my options are...?"

"Follow or don't. It's that simple." Tallis turned to face the path on her right. She added over her shoulder, "I get the feeling that you're an exceptional person, Hawke. Here's your chance to prove it." She started down the path.

Hawke hesitated, glancing toward the left path- which, judging by the sunlight streaming through it, also led outside- before following Tallis down the right tunnel with an exhausted sigh.

* * *

><p>They moved on along the mountain trail. Hawke was so relieved to be back outside that she nearly fell to her knees and kissed the ground; ever since the Deep Roads, being inside for extended periods of time- whether it was inside her mansion or inside tunnels in the middle of a mountain- bothered her. A lot. She'd never mentioned her newfound feeling of claustrophobia to anyone, but she guessed that Fenris knew; she tended to grow twitchy at those times, and being as he watched her like a hawk (ha, a <em>hawk<em>) he could probably guess.

At any rate, her shivering stopped almost as soon as they made it outside, and she sprinted out of the tunnel with a delighted _whoop,_ causing Isabela and Tallis to howl with laughter while Bethany and Fenris just smirked. Hawke frolicked around for several minutes, until...

"Oh, shit." Hawke paused in her revelry when a flash of movement caught her eye, and she peered farther down the mountain. Fenris was at her side in an instant.

"What is it?"

"Qunari." Hawke pointed. Sure enough, several giant, blue-ish kossith with horns were meandering along down there, looking threatening with giant spears and axes and hard-packed muscles.

"Tal-Vashoth," Tallis corrected, also moving to their side.

And then they were attacked by another wyvern. After that came _more _ghasts.

"Just how many of these creatures live on this mountain?" Fenris asked, glowering at the ghast corpses with annoyance as he bent down to clean the blood off his blade.

"Be thankful they're not high dragons," Hawke pointed out dryly, doing the same.

"Hmm. Good point."

* * *

><p>Naturally, they were attacked by the Tal-Vashoth a few minutes later. Hawke spent as much of her time dodging thrown spears- <em>where the hell do they carry all those spears, anyway?<em>- as she did backstabbing the kossith and swearing under her breath. Once she even had to tackle Bethany, who was concentrating on a spell, to the ground, because she didn't notice the spear sailing toward her. It just brushed against Hawke's calf, although she was wearing leather armor so it only left a bruise.

"I am sick of fighting Qunari," Hawke declared, straightening, once they were all dead.

"_Tal-Vashoth,_" Tallis and Fenris corrected her together.

"Whatever," Hawke growled. "They're all huge, scary, and horny." Isabela sniggered. Hawke shot a rude gesture her direction, grinning despite herself, and the pirate queen just stuck her tongue out in response.

"I've seen and killed enough of them both to last a lifetime," Hawke concluded, grimacing.

"Let's just keep going. The sooner we get out of here the sooner you'll be able to stop seeing them," Tallis promised, rolling her eyes.

"Good idea," Hawke grumbled. She stumped on, trying to ignore her exhaustion.

They were attacked by one more group of Tal-Vashoth; afterward, Tallis knelt by their dying leader and exchanged a few terse words with him in Qunari. She discovered that Salit was just about to meet with the Duke near the base of the mountain. Hawke, grimly determined, led them on.

* * *

><p>They nearly walked in on the meeting with the Duke and Salit, but Hawke gestured for the others to pause at the edge of the clearing. The Orlesian was meeting with the Tal-Vashoth in some kind of ruins; the ground was cracked stone, with plants poking through, and on one side were some broken walls. Opposite the broken walls the stone ended suddenly, and Hawke realized that it was a cliff. She pointed it out to the others, gesturing for them to be careful, and they nodded.<p>

As they approached, Salit was handing a scroll to one of the Duke's soldiers. The scroll turned out to be nothing more than a list of names. Evidently the Duke was hoping for some kind of weapon, so naturally he was terribly pissed and a little bemused. Hawke chose that moment to stride in with her little flock.

"Your Grace," Hawke called neutrally, stepping into the ruins where the meeting was being conducted.

"Champion. I should have known you would turn up," Duke Prosper drawled, turning to her, his voice full of venom and malice.

"You know I have an _excellent_ sense of dramatic timing! And good hair," Hawke added as an afterthought.

"Joke while you can, you will not find it funny for long," spat the Duke.

They heard a grunt followed by the unmistakable sound of a dagger sinking into flesh, and Hawke turned to see Tallis standing over a dead man. The elf jumped back to crouch on the broken walls of the ruins, holding her daggers tightly and glowering at the Tal-Vashoth.

"I said I would stop you, Salit," she growled warningly.

"And I said I would slay you if you tried," Salit answered harshly.

"If anyone is to do any slaying, it will be me!" the Duke declared. He pulled out some sort of device that looked almost like a crossbow and aimed it at Salit. He pulled the trigger; green goo hit the Tal-Vashoth on the shoulder, causing him to stumble back several steps. Startled, Salit peered down at it, looking a little confused. It didn't appear to hurt him.

Hawke heard a terrible roar, and her blood ran cold. _Shit._

Leopold leaped over the edge of the ruins then and roared once more before jumping down to grab Salit in its powerful jaws and squeezing the Tal-Vashoth to bits. Hawke could only stare in horror.

"Kill them all!" the Duke yelled to his bodyguards, backing away.

Swearing, Hawke leaped back, away from one of the guards who raced at her. Fenris immediately engaged the man and took him out several seconds later. Already, Isabela was nowhere to be seen, and Bethany was standing behind Hawke, shooting spell after spell into the battle. Most of the Duke's guards had engaged with the Tal-Vashoth, although a few of them were running toward Hawke and the others. She momentarily lost track of the Duke and the wyvern as she danced across the ruins which were now a battlefield, her daggers flashing.

When she glanced up again, Leopold was striding along the broken wall of the ruins, roaring with fury, while Duke Prosper stood underneath him, hurling oaths and accusations at Hawke, which only served to amuse her. The amusement vanished when she saw that the wyvern was also hurling something at the combatants; more goo, this time orange, hit the ground, and she saw several of the Tal-Vashoth get hit with it. When they started stumbling about and writhing in pain a few minutes later, she realized what it was: poison.

"Stay out of the orange stuff!" she shrieked to her friends as she danced away from one such puddle. "It's poison!"

"Got it!" Isabela called as she slit one man's throat and darted away. The others were too busy to acknowledge her, but she knew they understood.

Soon enough, Mabari hounds had also entered the fray. Hawke, thinking of Fang, who she'd left at home, regretfully killed the ones that hurled themselves at her. Fenris sprinted past her then, and with a start she watched him and realized that he was attacking the Duke. Damn, why hadn't she thought of that? She raced after him, hurling a dagger at the man, who, surprisingly nimble for his age, dodged.

And then Leopold jumped into the fight.

Duke Prosper catapulted himself onto the wyvern's back, cackling maniacally. He had his crossbow of green goo again and was hurling it at Hawke and her friends, who dodged it as best they could.

"The green stuff is a target for the wyvern! Don't let it hit you- stay on the move!" Isabela called then. Hawke signaled her thanks to the rogue as she danced around the battlefield, searching for some way to kill the Duke and the wyvern. She paused to make a quick assessment of her team: Bethany was now standing back in the trees as she used her spells, downing lyrium potion after lyrium potion, looking exhausted. Fenris was hacking at the wyvern and the Orlesian, dodging the wyvern's deadly fangs. Isabela was, unsurprisingly, doing her own thing, and Tallis was hurling daggers again. Their movements were still crisp and sharp, but Hawke could tell that their strength was flagging after the long day. _We have to end this quickly._

The wyvern, on the other hand, was moving surprisingly slowly; he was bigger than the previous two that Hawke had killed, but he seemed to be a little weaker, as if his strength was also flagging. With was strange, because it had been several minutes before the other wyverns had started to look like this when they had been engaged in battle. Hawke's eyes widened when she recalled the poison that she'd slipped into Leopold's food when she and Tallis were sneaking through the chateau; so it really did work. She congratulated herself for her excellent forethought.

"_Hawke!_" Fenris roared suddenly, and she glanced up to see his expression fierce with anger and... terror? "_Watch out!_"

Then something hit her in the shoulder, and she stumbled back, looking down. _Oh, SHIT._

Duke Prosper had hit her with his green goo.

Leopold was already looking at her like she was a big snack, and she immediately sprinted away. The wyvern leaped after her, his jaws closing on the spot where she had just been standing; she felt its hot breath, felt one of its teeth scrape against her arm and break the skin, but she had mostly avoided it. She continued to race away from it, and it followed her for several minutes while Fenris tried unsuccessfully to bait it away before she drew to a halt, panting, unable to run anymore. It was fortunate that the green stuff faded just then.

"Sister!" Bethany was beckoning her over from under cover of the trees. "Are you alright?" The mage's face was pinched with concern.

"Yes. No. We have to end this, Bethany," Hawke insisted, her eyes wide with urgency.

"I know, sister. But stand still for a moment so I can heal you."

Hawke was a little surprised. The worst injuries she had were a few scratches and bruises, which she could have fought through any day, but she acquiesced, disgruntled. As Bethany used the few healing spells she had on the rogue, Hawke's gaze was trained on the battle; Duke Prosper had taken to throwing things on the ground, which proceeded to blow up a few minutes later. _Oh. Flame bombs._ Isabela was shouting a warning to the others as she danced away from the bombs; Fenris was glowing blue with his lyrium markings as he attacked the wyvern, but even from this distance she could see the sheen of sweat on his face; and Tallis was aiming one of her daggers, carefully preparing to throw. She saw Leopold leap toward Fenris, who was standing at the edge of the ruins... right in front of a cliff. Fenris jumped out of the way, but an idea had occurred to Hawke.

"Alright, drink this." Bethany thrust a potion into Hawke's hands. She swallowed it without a second thought and raced back into battle.

"Hey, you! Jackass!" The Duke swung Leopold around to face her, his face glowing with hatred. Hawke sneered at him and darted toward the edge of the ruins, where Fenris had been standing just a few minutes ago. "I'm over here! Come get me, you stupid, flowery Orlesian!" She hurled a few more insults as she danced around at the edge of the cliff.

"Be careful, Hawke!" Fenris called. Everybody had stopped, watching her with concern, as if she had lost her mind. Everybody but the wyvern, that is.

Leopold hurtled toward Hawke, its eyes glowing with hatred that matched the Duke's. Hawke made no movement to dodge right away, her lips drawn back in an angry snarl. The Duke's expression changed from furious to dubious, and then horror as the realization dawned on him. He tried to pull the wyvern back, but Leopold's momentum hurled them forward; Hawke rolled out of the way; the wyvern sailed over her head and over the cliff with one final roar of anger.

Fenris darted over to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked urgently, reaching out a hand to help her up.

"Yeah. Fine," Hawke panted. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned on him as they made their way over to the edge of the ruins and peered down. Duke Prosper was dangling from the cliff edge by one hand, glowering up at them, looking both terrified and irate at the same time.

"Keep away from me, you Fereldan turnip! The empress will hear of this! Orlais will burn Kirkwall to the ground! All of you will die screaming, I swear it!" the Duke shrieked maniacally. Hawke's icy gaze snapped with contained fury, but fear formed a knot in her belly, caused her heart to speed up. _What have I done?_

"I would have tried begging for mercy, but that's just me," Hawke drawled, stepping away and giving no indication of her inner horror. _I hope I didn't just start a war._

"You... filthy... whore!" spat the Duke. Isabela and Fenris came up beside Hawke to gaze down at him spitefully. She glowered down at him as well before she turned and strode away, unable to bear the sight of him anymore, shaking her head with disgust.

"Thank you for the lovely party, I'll treasure the belt," she called over her shoulder. The Duke yelled with incoherent anger and she heard an ominous crack as his fingers slipped. He hit a pile of rocks directly beneath him before he fell to his death.

"They never learn," Fenris spat, turning to catch up with Hawke.

"Looks like the duke... has fallen from grace."

A twisted, humorless smirk was on her features as she approached Tallis, savage glee gleaming in her gaze.

The Qunari elf was kneeling beside Salit's body, holding the scroll. She murmured under her breath in Qunari before rising to her feet, her misty gray eyes wide with shock and horror.

"If the duke only knew what he nearly had in his grasp," the elf breathed, half to herself. Then her gaze lifted to meet Hawke's as she added, "Thank you. There's no way I could have done this without your help."

"What is the scroll?" Hawke inquired curiously, gesturing to it.

"It is a list of agents throughout Thedas, Qunari like myself. Qunari with children, wives, families. If this had fallen into the wrong hands..." Tallis shuddered. "Many innocents would have been slaughtered, people who don't deserve it. The Ariqun believes they knew the risks, but what about those innocents? I... I couldn't let this happen."

Hawke opened her mouth to ask something, but her vision swam suddenly and she blinked to clear it. Her head began to throb again, and she felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. Fenris's arm was around her waist again, and he was peering at her anxiously, but she forced herself to focus, despite the dizziness.

"Maybe those agents should be discovered?" Hawke asked, speaking with slight difficulty and hearing herself as if her voice came from a tunnel.

"I believe in the Qun, but I'm not doing this to protect the Qunari. The list doesn't distinguish innocent from guilty, it doesn't show the friends, lovers, children who..." Tallis shuddered again, a hard gleam in her eye, and declared, "Nobody should have it."

"Sister," Bethany whispered, laying a hand on Hawke's shoulder. Hawke shrugged it off irritably, and she could almost hear Bethany's scowl.

"So what now? You aren't just going to leave, are you?" she asked, a little disappointed to see the elf go. On second thought, she just wanted to get this all over with so she could go home and lay down in her comfy bed. Hopefully that would help her feel better.

"You think I would fit into your merry entourage?" Tallis snickered, evidently unaware of Hawke's inner turmoil.

"Quite well, actually," Fenris commented dryly, his arm tightening around Hawke's waist. Concern seemed to roll off him in waves.

"Let's see... are you possessed? Consorting with demons? A pathological liar?" Isabela ticked off, watching Tallis from under her eyelashes.

"I have six toes on my left foot," Tallis offered.

"Close enough!" Isabela sniggered.

"Maybe some other time, Hawke. I still have a few things to do... but I am grateful. I want you to know that," Tallis told her sincerely.

Another thought flew through Hawke's fuzzy mind: _The tenth thing I would do in my free time is find Tallis again. _Then she felt as if her mind had switched off and been wiped blank as a sheet of untouched paper, and all she could do was blink dizzily.

"Oh, before I forget!" The redhead tossed something on a chain to Hawke, who just stared as it flew through the air. Fenris's hand shot out and he caught it for her, arching an eyebrow. "That was going to be the Heart of the Many," Tallis told her, brows furrowing slightly. "You would have found a jewel, I would have killed Salit, and everybody would have been happy. Guess nothing ever goes how it's supposed to, does it?" The elf laughed wryly, turning to leave. "Thanks again, Hawke. I'll see you around."

"See you, Tallis," Hawke managed. "I hope." The Qunari elf smiled at her the last time before striding off into the trees. Hawke's throat suddenly felt very dry, and she uttered a hacking cough.

Hawke wanted to watch Tallis leave, but her head was hurting worse than ever, her vision swimming so badly she couldn't see straight, her heart pounding furiously. She leaned against Fenris, panting heavily.

"Hawke?" he asked, concerned. Then he seemed to take a second glance at her and he snapped worriedly, "Rathina!" She couldn't acknowledge him.

Her vision went totally black, and she collapsed into his arms.

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><p>*Did anyone get my allusion? I was referencing Duncan in <em>Dragon Age: The Calling.<em>


	19. What's in a Name

_**A/N:**_

_**Hullo! Sorry, this still isn't the final chapter of the MotA quartet. Fenris forced me to make you guys wait even longer, the little rascal. Anyhow, this is a quick story I came up with to appease you guys till I come back from camp three weeks from now (I'm gonna miss you guys :/). It's unedited, like the previous one, so hopefully I'll come back to it and fix it later. This takes place literally days before The Last Straw begins. Unfortunately, Hawke didn't write an introduction for this one, but with luck she'll come back and do it later. xP.**_

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><p>Hawke blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She lay on her side in her sizable bed, gazing at the sliver of light that drifted into the room between the partially closed curtains at her window. She yawned and stretched; even pointing her toes, she couldn't reach the edge of the bed.<p>

She suddenly became aware of warmth at her bare back- not blistering heat, but a comfortable warmth. She rolled over to find herself gazing into Fenris's beautiful jade green eyes, and she could feel her heart melting. She still couldn't understand _how_ she had managed to snag the finest man in all of Thedas for herself. He tossed her that lovely, crooked grin of his, and she felt her heart melt all over again. She responded with one of her own smirks.

"'Morning, handsome," she drawled, reaching over to run her hand over his (also bare) chest.

"Good morning, Hawke," he answered in that sexy bass tone of his as he caught her hand and kissed her fingers. Her eyelids fluttered shut for a brief moment, and the teasing smirk faded into a small, gentle smile. She rolled onto her back and gazed up contentedly at her ceiling while he began to trace patterns idly across her palm. There was an odd feeling to go along with her content, though; something... off.

"You always do that," she mused, half to herself, her brow puckering.

"Sorry?" His fingers stilled, and she glanced at him sideways. He seemed to have frozen in place, his eyes on her face, but he relaxed when he saw her scrutiny. She caught his hand, twining her fingers through his as she sorted through her thoughts. She'd spoken without thinking, and it took her a moment to realize what she had meant.

"You always call me by my last name," she elaborated after that brief moment of thought.

"Everybody calls you Hawke," Fenris pointed out, his own eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Except Bethany, of course." He tactfully avoided mentioning her mother; even nearly four years later, that was a raw topic for her. She squeezed his hand gently in recognition of his omission, her gaze flickering with gratitude before she returned to the topic.

"I needed a professional name, so people would take me seriously," she recalled slowly.

"Hawke is definitely a name that makes one rethink himself," Fenris agreed somberly, and sneaking another peak at him, she could see the teasing glint in his eye.

"Good, that's what I was aiming for," she replied, winking at him. "Anyway, my point was- erm... what was my point?" He was distracting her by playing with her hand and her arm again. She shot him a fake scowl, and eventually his fingers stilled. "Oh, right. I never intended that to be what my friends call me. Or my..." She hesitated thoughtfully, wanting to refer to Fenris, but unsure what she could call him. 'Boyfriend' or 'lover' just seemed insufficient, and 'husband' wasn't technically correct. "Or you."

"That's how you introduced yourself to me," he reminded her, serious now. He propped his cheek up on his elbow, watching her with those inscrutable jade green eyes.

"I... that's true," she admitted. "At the time, I just couldn't bear to correct you, or any of the others... This is my father's name, you know, and I-I feel like I owe it to him."

"That's an honorable sentiment," Fenris noted quietly after an appropriate pause.

"Is it, though?" She was staring at the ceiling again, wearing a bitter expression. "I think my father would disapprove of my lingering on his memory so long. And the fact that I haven't been using my given name since my mother..." She shook her head, unable to finish the thought. Then she added with vague amusement, "He had always admired my 'spirit', though. Told me that with my stubbornness I'd likely be queen of Ferelden by the time I was thirty. 'Champion of Kirkwall' is close enough, I think." Now she wore a gentle smile of longing memory. "I like to think he would be proud of me, if he saw me today."

"I'm sure he would be, Hawke," Fenris insisted, his green eyes intense. "I've never met your father, but if he's anything like you..."

"Thanks, Fenris." She paused thoughtfully. "There you go again. Would it kill you to call me 'Rathina'?" The teasing glint was back in her eyes and words again, and his own expression lit up in response.

"Why the sudden change in heart? You were just telling me how you used your last name to honor your father's memory," he teased her. She rolled her eyes, refusing to be sidetracked from her seriousness.

"I feel like I'm a different person now than I was then, you know? I'm more than just Hawke, the Fereldan refugee; I'm Rathina Hawke, now, Champion of Kirkwall, noble, peacemaker, survivor of the Deep Roads, lover of a handsome elf... And besides, with everything that's been happening lately..." She paused here, her gaze snapping back over to Fenris's with an level of intensity that was rarely observed in her. He gazed steadily back at her, his expression solemn again. "I feel like something's about to happen, Fenris, something _big._ And it's going to be soon. It's like we're standing on the tip of a knife, and soon everything is just going to tumble. And everything... just... If I don't do this now, I feel like I won't have a chance to do it later. Contrary to popular belief, I am _not_ infallible_. _I'm afraid that I'll go down with this whole thing, and I can't prevent it, short of leaving this place, which I absolutely refuse to do." Her eyes fell now, a rare blush suffusing her cheeks. "Look, Fenris, you don't have to call me by my first name if you don't want to, it just would be nice if... and nobody else does..." She trailed off. Troubled didn't even begin to describe her expression; concern and anxiety and fear were all visible in her eyes, but her determination and fiery spirit showed in her clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

Fenris sat up, reaching for Hawke and pulling her up as well. She lifted her eyes, allowing him to see her raw emotion, but when she saw his warm, understanding expression, the other feelings faded until nothing showed but her determination. She knew he understood that this was about more than just a name.

"Rathina," he began, then paused, as if tasting the feel of the word as it left his lips. Her expression lit up minutely, and it was with more confidence that he continued. "We will pull through this, you understand? Meredith and Orsino won't pull you down with them when everything blows, and more importantly, they won't get between us." He seemed to have adopted some of her own fiery spirit, for obstinate conviction danced in his eyes and fierce scowl, and she obviously took heart in this.

"Thank you, Fenris," she said quietly, her features softening into a genuine smile. "For understanding. And for believing."

"I've always believed... Rathina," he growled fiercely, the intensity still bright in his expression. "You're the one who didn't." And he pulled her closer to kiss her with a vehement passion, to which she responded with more than her usual fiery spirit.


	20. Mark of the Assassin: part IV

_**A/N: **_**So this concludes my Mark of the Assassin quartet, this final story being completely AU. (It took the majority of a 10 hour long drive to write it, and it wound up being 9 and a half pages and about 6k words. Overall, probably one of the best of my stories. Just saying. xP). Anyway, thanks for bearing with me while I was away.**

**So, since Hawke was unconscious for the majority of this chapter, I skipped into a couple other characters' heads, and frankly, that was a ton of fun. I think I might explore the BethanyxCullen pairing at some point. What do ya'll think of that?**

**Anyhow, this is mostly unedited, but hopefully I'll come back to it. Like I'll come back to the rest of my stories, ha. Anyway, please enjoy!**

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><p><em>So Hawke thrust this journal in my hand and practically commanded me to continue writing this little "quartet" she was working on. I am not sure why she was so eager to have this here; I turned her down at first, but eventually I gave in. She did have a few submissions to this chapter (as did a couple of our other friends, which I think you'll enjoy), but the majority of this is my work. Enjoy.<em>

_~Fenris_

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><p><strong>MotA: The Subsequent Events<strong>

With movements as swift as a viper, Fenris reached out and caught Hawke almost as soon as he saw her eyes roll back into her head. Bethany uttered a sharp gasp, and even Isabela looked rather startled.

"Hawke," he hissed urgently, concerned and confused; what had happened? He shook her gently, but she didn't respond. She was clearly out cold. She was very pale, and there was a sheen of sweat on her upper lip. Her eyes flickered uneasily under their lids.

"Look," Bethany whispered, pointing a trembling finger at her sister's arm. Fenris's gaze fell to the indicated area, and he inhaled sharply with shock. Hawke's leather armor was punctured and torn, and blood spread rapidly along her upper arm. How had he not noticed? A memory leaped unbidden to his mind then, and he recalled seeing a gray-faced Hawke speaking with Tallis, one hand pressed against the opposite arm. He wanted to shut his eyes and berate himself for not seeing earlier, but he knew he had to act quickly now. He laid her on the ground and, with practiced movements, unstrapped her armor, revealing her bare, bloody arm. Bethany hissed through her teeth and knelt beside him, reaching out to probe the wound gently. There were distinct teeth marks that punctured through her skin and muscle, almost down to the bone, and the skin was completely torn, leaving a gory mess. Fenris knew, instantly, what had happened: the wyvern had bit her.

And even worse...

"It poisoned her!" Bethany realized aloud, her almond eyes wide with horror and panic.

"You're the mage, can't you do anything about it?" Fenris snapped back, his own fear for Hawke piercing his chest like a sharp dagger.

"Right. Poison. Umm..." Bethany rocked back on her heels, her expression still panicked, but she shut her eyes and visibly tried to relax. Fenris forced himself to stop glowering at her. His anxiety was mounting, twisting his stomach into knots and sharpening all his perceptions and emotions. Fury mixed with panic and fear boiled within him, but, gritting his teeth, he pushed the feelings down.

"Maker's breath, are you two just going to sit around like rejected whores?" Isabela snapped, rolling her eyes and crouching next to them, pushing the other two out of the way.

"That means a lot, coming from you," Bethany commented dryly, but she moved willingly. Fenris glowered resentfully at Isabela before retreating to Hawke's other side.

With deft movements, the pirate snatched a rag out of her pack, dumped water from a water skin onto it, and proceeded to clean Hawke's wound. The small, injured rogue winced. The movement caught Fenris's eye, and he realized that Hawke was watching them with blue eyes dulled from the pain. He reached out and caught her hand. She smiled faintly and squeezed his hand, her grip weak, but Fenris was unable to mirror her smile. They both transferred their gaze back to Isabela.

The pirate now pressed an injury kit into Hawke's wound and bound it with tight bandages. A grimace flitted across her dull features, but otherwise she didn't complain.

"Fenris," she whispered, her voice hoarse and weak, "the poison..." Her gaze was pleading, and he could see agony whirling in her sensual blue eyes.

"I know," he told her, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb and glancing over at Bethany so Hawke couldn't read his expression. "What do we do?" His tone was hard.

"There is a cure, but..." The mage sprung to her feet, pacing back and forth nearby, her expression pinched. "Remember how we looked for the ingredients to that potion, but we barely found enough to heal that Mabari? Those aren't exactly common, so we can't rely on any one of us finding enough within the next..." She paused here and glanced over at Hawke, calculating, before she went on, her words heavy, "...in the next two or three hours." They all knew what this meant, and the words traveled silently back and forth between the group: _If __we __don__'__t __do __something __fast__, __she__'__ll __die__._ "In theory, I suppose, I could flush out the poison with my magic, but this kind of poison is too potent for a single mage, and I'd have to do it now before it spreads too far." She paused, turning an anguished glare up at the sky. "Oh, would that we were in Kirkwall right now..."

"Well, we're here, and we have to come up with something _fast__,_" Isabela growled, frowning up at Bethany. Bethany turned, a scowl on her lovely features.

"Fenris," Hawke whispered again while the other two women were distracted. When he turned back to her, her breathing was quick and shallow, and she was even paler than before. "Wyvern poison causes... hallucinations." Pain flickered across her expression mid-sentence, and he knew that she was still hurting, despite the bandage. Then the full weight of her words fell upon his shoulders, and his eyes widened minutely. He recognized fear in her expression and her breathing quickened even more than before. His grip on her hand tightened.

"Fenris." The elf turned to see Bethany watching him, her brows creased, but she appeared to be slightly more relaxed. "There is one thing I can do. There's this... spell... that can put her into a sort of coma, in a suspended state, and it should stall the effects of the poison for a few days. That would be enough time to get to Kirkwall so all the mages can heal her. If we take our time, though, the poison will sluggishly make its way through her system, killing her slowly and painfully. But if we don't dawdle..." Bethany paused, biting her lip before continuing. "She'll be completely unconscious until the spell releases her, and she won't be able to speak or move."

"Sounds like... wait- until the _spell _releases her?" Isabela stared at Bethany, her own brow furrowing. At Fenris's side, Hawke's muscles tensed, and her grip was suddenly vicelike upon his. But horror and unbidden hope kept his eyes trained on Bethany.

"I can put it on her, but there's no known way to end it. That's why we don't use this spell often. Usually the enchanted person wakes up on his own, but sometimes they never do," Bethany admitted. "It's a long shot, but if we can get her to Kirkwall and heal her, then hopefully she'll be able to wake up." All three of them fell silent. Fenris debated inwardly the pros and cons. The girls appeared equally conflicted.

"You said it slows the effects of the poison," Fenris finally said, his dark eyebrows knitted together as he thought, "and at this stage of the infection begins the hallucinations."

"I don't know," Bethany interjected, anticipating his question. Her eyes were dark with the awful weight of decision. "Whether the patient has dreams or not varies depending on the circumstances. I think-"

Her words were cut off by a terrible shriek that rent the air, seeming to split the world in two. Fenris's gaze snapped down to Hawke; her eyes were wide with true terror and utter fright at something they couldn't see, her expression harsh, her teeth gnawing into her lips. Her grip was now bone-crushing.

"Do it now, Bethany!" he roared as Hawke's gaze passed sightlessly over him. She released his arm and began to writhe, her arms flailing, her back arching off the ground. He lunged closer to pin her shoulder to the ground, and Isabela did the same on the other side. Bethany watched, shocked, her mouth half-open and her eyes wide. At a sharp glance from the elf, however, she shifted into action. She grabbed her staff and aimed it at Hawke. A stream of violet light erupted from the end of the staff and flowed into the injured rogue. Hawke's seizure weakened before ceasing altogether, and her eyes fluttered shut. Her breathing deepened into that of a heavy sleeper. Fenris exhaled as his own muscles relaxed. Now, unconscious, Hawke's features had relaxed and she appeared smaller and more innocent than she ever did awake. He reached out and brushed the back of his hand across his cheek before sitting back and glancing at the other two. Both women were paler than usual.

"We'd better get moving, I guess," he finally stated to break the silence. With slow, gentle movements, he knelt down and gathered Hawke into his arms. He rose to his feet with surprising ease- Hawke was a very light woman.

"Right." The pirate queen's words lacked in their usual eloquence as she gathered up her things and strode over to the foot of the path that led down the mountain. The silent Bethany followed more slowly, leaving Fenris to take up the rear with his lovely burden.

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><p>They had been walking not fifteen minutes when they were intercepted by a familiar redhead. She stepped out of the brush in front of them, watching warily. Bethany instantly fell back a few steps so she stood just in front of Fenris, surreptitiously blocking Hawke from the redhead's view.<p>

"Tallis," Fenris greeted her tersely, his emerald green eyes narrowing somewhat.

"Yes, it's nice to see you again too," Tallis said impatiently. "Where's Hawke? That was her scream I heard, wasn't it?"

"So what, sweetheart? You left," Isabela pointed out, arching a perfect brow. "You didn't need us anymore."

"No, but..." Tallis shifted sideways, attempting to peer around Bethany, but at Fenris's spectacular glower she subsided.

"Why do you care?" Bethany asked, the beginnings of a frown appearing at the corners of her lips.

"Well, I... I feel like I owe Hawke now, after what she did for me. Besides, she's a good person. She deserves help if she needs it. Where is she?" Tallis repeated. Bethany glanced back at Fenris and they locked gazes for the briefest moment before the mage nodded and stepped away. Tallis's odd, gray-green eyes fell instantly upon their fallen leader, and she gasped loudly. "What the- what happened?"

"She was poisoned by the wyvern," Fenris told her curtly, wanting to shield Hawke from the other elf's prying gaze. "Don't come any closer, assassin," he added when Tallis made as if to take another step. Her eyes widened and she lifted her hands in the air, but she stopped moving.

"Fine, fine. I understand why you don't trust me. But..." Tallis paused, leaning closer, her frown deepening. "I've heard that wyvern poisoning kicks in fast, and she looks like she's only asleep. Why...?"

"It's a long story," Bethany cut in. "We don't have the time right now. We have to get back to Kirkwall."

"I know a shortcut through the mountains and back to Kirkwall," Tallis offered, appearing relieved that she could be of some use. Obviously she wasn't quite used to associating with general company. "You can tell me on the way... if you want me to show it to you, that is."

Fenris, holding the feverish Hawke in his arms, knew that they didn't exactly have time to waste, and he didn't want to take the time to debate with his other two friends.

"Lead on," he told Tallis in a no-nonsense tone which was more directed at Bethany and Isabela than the other elf.

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><p>Hawke had few recollections of the journey back to Kirkwall. In this suspended state, she could hear and sense what was going on; but to her eternal annoyance and chagrin, she couldn't see or interact with her environment. In her moments of clarity, she recalled Bethany mentioning that particular aspect of the dream state, and while she appreciated the necessity of this, she still resented it. <em>Maker's breath, Rathina, why didn't you move out of the way fast enough?<em> she would snap at herself when she had enough presence of mind.

These moments of clarity were few and far between, however. She spent the rest of the time in her dream state wrestling with vivid nightmares and dreams, some of them so utterly terrifying that she trembled and sobbed inwardly, some of them so sweet that she felt her heart burst and passion race through her veins. Her dream state seemed to move in cycles: she would have a few moments of clarity before being assaulted by dreams of various natures which often led to extreme agony and then back to clear thought.

Sometimes she could even feel the poison. At first, pain clawed through the part of her identity that she knew was her left arm, even if it wouldn't respond to her attempts to move it. After a little while of this excruciating pain- minutes, hours, or days, she couldn't say- it moved farther up her arm to her shoulder, and her arm began to go numb. Now, not only could she not move it, she couldn't _feel_ pounded through her veins at this injustice. It wasn't _fair._ Here she was, laying comatose (sprawled in Fenris's arms at first and then on the back of a horse, judging by the snatches of conversation she could detect from the others in between her murderous thoughts), while the others were probably walking and running and fighting and talking and eating and laughing...

The anger faded almost as soon as it had come, to be instantly replaced by misery and despair. _I'm trapped here, I can't move, I just want to LEAVE this dream world..._ She could feel the poison making its way along her veins, and she knew all hope was lost if it reached her heart. If she died, how would Kirkwall fend for itself against Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino? What would all her companions do without her? ...What about Fenris?

Misery hardened into resolve. _I can do this. I'll live, for Kirkwall, for my friends, for Fenris._ She could feel a shiver run through the nerves of her comatose body at the thought of her elf. _I'll pull through for him. I have to see him again._

And then a terrible weakness hit her, like a wave crashing over her head, pulling her under. Shadowy figures began to dance beneath her eyelids, taunting her, and she lost all awareness except for her dreams...

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><p>One does not usually see horses in Kirkwall. And when one does, usually it's some oblivious foreigner (most likely Orlesian) who thinks that horses will actually be <em>useful <em>in Kirkwall (which is completely ridiculous, because, as everyone knows, everything in Kirkwall is within walking distance). But if one paid enough attention in Hightown on a certain day, one could see the decidedly odd scene of a white-haired elf covered with blue markings leading a horse down the streets with the prone form of the Champion of Kirkwall on that horse's back.

That was certainly a day for gossip.

Fenris was not pleased by all the staring and murmuring. And definitely not by all the crowding in the street. Once the townspeople realized that he had a horse, however, they often shifted out of the way, with the exception of a few sneering nobles. He wasn't in the least ashamed to admit that he threatened those few nobles with his sword and the wrath of Lady Hawke.

Tallis and Bethany he had sent off to the Gallows to (hopefully) get more mages to help heal Hawke. If that fell through, though (and despite how he loathed having to beg the abominations for help), he sent Isabela to find Anders and Merrill.

With the horse's reins in one hand and the key to Hawke's mansion that she had given him in the other hand, he managed to get the door open. When Bodahn appeared in the doorway, the elf thrust the horse's reins at him before reaching up and gently lifting her up off the horse's back and into his arms.

"Hawke has been injured," Fenris informed a startled Bodahn. "Help has been sent for. Put that horse away... please. My apologies for the inconvenience, but speed was of the essence," he added as an afterthought. Bodahn bowed before hurrying away with the horse. Fenris carried Hawke into the mansion, shutting the door behind him.

"Mistress!" Orana hurried right over to Fenris as soon as he started for the stairs. She hovered at his elbow, peering anxiously down at Hawke before bursting into tears of hysteria. Somehow, Fenris managed to calm her down without losing his temper. He carried Hawke up to her room and instructed Orana to change her into a nightgown. Fenris returned to pace impatiently around the main entryway.

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><p>Isabela was the first to return with Anders and Merrill.<p>

"May we go see her?" Merrill asked quietly, watching Fenris with wide eyes, obviously frightened. He nodded once, and Merrill and Isabela started for the stairs. Fenris caught Anders by the arm. The abomination swung around to glower at him.

"If you harm her in any way," Fenris threatened quietly, his eyes narrowing.

"If I were you, I wouldn't worry about the mage harming her. After all, she got injured on _your_ watch," Anders sneered, shrugging off Fenris's arm and striding up the stairs.

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><p>Fear raged through Hawke's mind. She was more aware now than she had been yet in her dream state; she was laying on her nice, comfy bed now, she knew, wearing little else than a flimsy nightgown (thanks to Orana, who had been hysterical the whole time she dressed her mistress). But the poison, she knew, had worked its way farther through her body. Now not only was her left arm numb, but both legs were now completely unfeeling, and she was aware of the poison creeping up her right arm. And it hurt like <em>hell.<em> She had never felt anything nearly as painful as this. Even the time she had been severely injured by the Arishok, and the broken bones she had received during training in the army, and even one time accidentally drinking weak poison didn't amount to anything this painful. The only pain she had ever experienced that came even remotely close was when Fenris had left her after their first time together. And that had been a sudden pain, a searing through her chest; this poison was a slow, creeping, prickling, acidic pain that only ever grew worse. She wanted to wake up and scream her heart out because it hurt so bad, like someone was slowly burning her to death, but her body refused to respond. Total misery rolled through her, but she could only hold on and hope.

"Is she crying?" She faintly heard a voice ask. She identified the speaker as Anders. Rage boiled through her again, and she wanted to draw back her fist and punch him; why was Anders in her house? There was only one explanation: Fenris had let him in. _This whole situation must be more dire than I thought..._ But she trusted Fenris to her last breath, and she knew he would work to keep her alive until she drew that last breath. She felt the grief and the anger fade away as if they had been peeled back like the layers of an onion, to be replaced by a gentle warmth in her chest. Thoughts of Fenris and his gentle green eyes accompanied her as she sank back into oblivion.

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><p>"I'm sorry, Fenris!" Bethany was standing in front of the elf, her shoulders bowed and head low, the picture of shame and grief. "Meredith wouldn't allow anybody else to leave, so the Knight-Captain had to sneak me out..." She glanced beside her where the stolid form of Knight-Captain Cullen stood.<p>

"In that case, thank you." Fenris inclined his head to Cullen, who just shrugged his shoulders and shifted somewhat awkwardly.

"It was the least I could do. Despite Meredith's beliefs, I don't want the city to lose its greatest symbol of hope," he replied, his lips thinning slightly. Fenris knew that Hawke disliked templars in general, but they had both agreed a while back that Cullen wasn't all that bad. He turned back to Bethany.

"Isabela brought Merrill and the... erm, Anders, so hopefully you three will be enough, since you couldn't get any of the Circle mages to come." He disliked the idea of two apostates- one possessed by a "spirit" and the other a known blood mage- healing his love, but he definitely preferred this over her death. Bethany's almond eyes flickered in acknowledgment of his omission, but luckily she didn't point it out aloud. Good thing sensibility seemed to be a recurring trait in the Hawke family.

"I hope you're right," Bethany said instead, her lips pulling down as she brushed her hand across her face. She started for the stairs. Fenris turned to follow her, but the Knight-Captain cleared his throat in an obvious manner, so the elf turned back to face him, lifting a dark eyebrow.

"I'm afraid I will have to accompany Enchanter Hawke," Cullen stated, but he appeared to be genuinely apologetic.

"No need to be so formal, Cullen," Bethany commented, and Fenris realized that the mage had paused on the stairs. "I'm sure Fenris understands." The elf was startled to see amiability glittering in those almond eyes, and this time it was his turn to clear his throat. An obvious flush crept up both Bethany and Cullen's cheeks, and all three ascended the stairs once more.

* * *

><p>"So... you're saying that the three of you alone can't draw the poison out of Lady Hawke," Cullen stated, looking somewhat confused. The mages had been debating for several minutes now, and it was becoming more confusing with every passing minute.<p>

"We need more help, but we don't have time to find any more mages," Anders replied, rubbing a weary hand over his forehead. He, Merrill, and Bethany all stood around Hawke's bed while Cullen stood in the corner near the doorway. Isabela and a strange red-haired elf Cullen had never seen before stood next to the door to what was obviously Hawke's closet. Fenris sat in a chair by Hawke's head. He held her hand, stroking her hair, but at Anders's words he looked up.

"There has to be _something_ you can do," the elf said hoarsely. Cullen's gaze scanned Fenris's expression; the warrior was obviously very exhausted, but there was a fiercely determined light in his eye, his refusal to give up. _That must be what it feels like to be in love,_ Cullen realized- refusing to give up, supporting your love no matter what. His gaze inadvertently slid sideways to Bethany, and he had to bite his tongue to suppress the rush of blood in his cheeks when her lovely almond eyes met his sea green ones. He saw curiosity and exhaustion in hers, but the same light shone in her eyes as what Cullen had observed in Fenris. As a matter of fact, now that he looked closely, he could see that all Hawke's companions wore the same expression with varying degrees of intensity. It was rather dizzying, seeing all these completely different people rally around this one small, fierce woman, this woman who had been inadvertently thrown into the grueling position of linchpin, keeping together her small band of misfits as well as all of Kirkwall. It was completely amazing, and Cullen almost felt disappointed that he couldn't be a part of this group. But he had other duties to perform, no matter his feelings for either of the Hawke sisters, especially Bethany...

"Well... there is... one thing. But... she wouldn't like it." The young elf girl Merrill spoke quietly with nervous breaks between her words.

"Come on, kitten, you can tell us," Isabela coaxed. "Anything to save Hawke."

"I promised her I wouldn't, though," Merrill insisted, wringing her hands, her already large green eyes growing wider. Suspicion niggled at the back of his mind, and it was confirmed by the varying expressions of mistrust and disapproval in the misfits' faces.

"You have to try it," the redheaded elf insisted, speaking for the first time since Cullen had entered the room. "You have to save Hawke! If you don't..." She let the sentence hang. Fenris bowed his head. Bethany turned to Cullen, her gaze pleading.

"Cullen," she entreated him quietly, "please... it's my sister..."

He hesitated, but all the misfits were watching him now. He knew that all of them except maybe Bethany viewed him as an intruder, one who doesn't belong, and he knew they wouldn't hesitate to cut him down if he threatened to imprison them.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said finally, lifting his chin and taking the appropriate stance of a templar on duty. "I don't see any fishy business." He caught a glimpse of Bethany's small, pleased smile as she turned back to the others.

"Okay, Merrill, Anders and I will start funneling the spell, and then you go ahead," Bethany directed. "Don't get too... caught up."

"I won't," Merrill promised, her expression hardening into one of determination as she drew a knife from her robes. She gripped it tightly in her right hand and positioned the blade over her left hand. Bethany and Anders met each other's gaze before nodding at the same time and holding their hands over Hawke's prone body.

"Three... two... one."

* * *

><p>Light exploded behind Hawke's eyes. Pain blasted through her nerves- all of them, the numbness disappearing instantly from her extremities. She yelled in agony, and whether her cries were aloud or in her head, she couldn't tell, but she didn't care, oh, it hurt so bad... She felt like she was being electrocuted, burned, beaten, drowned, starved, and poked with a thousand needles all at once, and the colors flashing behind her eyelids didn't help. Visions from her earlier hallucinations returned in full force, each one slamming her mind and jarring her brain, so she couldn't think. It seemed to last forever, and all she could do was sob, and think of Fenris, and hope it would end...<p>

* * *

><p>"It's... done..." Bethany gasped out a while later. Fenris estimated three or four hours had passed while the mages worked on Hawke; his muscles were stiff and there was a crick in his neck when he straightened, stretching his spine. Isabela and Tallis were sitting on the floor, the former with her head resting on the shoulder of the latter, but both rogues rose to their feet at Bethany's words. Merrill leaned against the wall, panting heavily, and even Anders appeared to be worn out. He reached over to Merrill and took her bleeding hand, and when he moved away, her hand was whole again, but exhaustion was still forefront in her eyes.<p>

"When will she wake up?" Fenris asked, turning back to Hawke and brushing a lock of hair out of her face. The fever was gone and the pain seemed to have left her expression. Now she appeared to be just another sleeper.

"I don't know," Bethany admitted, suppressing a yawn. "But- with Cullen's permission, of course- I'll try to come by later to see how she is. She should wake up soon, though. She just needs to rest."

"Come on, kitten, I'll walk you home," Isabela said to Merrill, reaching for the exhausted young mage. She looped an arm around Merrill's waist and glanced over at Tallis. "You can come with me, if you like."

"I think I will," the redheaded elf agreed with a grateful smile. She glanced over at Fenris. "May I return tomorrow as well?"

"If Hawke is awake and she agrees to see you, then yes," he acknowledged, inclining his head to her.

"Good night, Fenris," Merrill yawned, waving at the other elf.

"Erm... good night. And... thank you," he added, glancing first at Merrill, then Bethany and Cullen, and finally at Anders. The abomination just waved and departed, followed by Isabela, Merrill, and Tallis. Finally it was just Bethany and Cullen remaining in the room with Fenris.

"Fenris... I didn't have time to tell you beforehand, but there is something you should know." Bethany had moved closer to him, tilting her head back slightly so she could look him in the eye. She was taller than her sister, an idle part of him noted. He just lifted an eyebrow. "Usually this spell... it... you know... changes people. It's not usually a big difference, but Rathina won't be the same person when she wakes up. Many scholars..." She hesitated before going on. "Many scholars attribute its effects to those similar of post-traumatic stress disorder. She's strong, so it shouldn't be too drastic, but still... Just keep an eye on her."

"I understand," he told her quietly. She smiled then, compassion brightening her features. To his utter shock, she reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. There wasn't any sign of lust or other ulterior motives, just a genuine kindness and faith in her eyes.

"I know," she replied. "She loves you a lot, Fenris. You're like a brother to me. I trust you to take care of her." She removed her hand and moved away. "I'll see you later. Give Rathina my love when she wakes up," Bethany added confidently before turning to the doorway. She and Cullen exited the room quietly, though Fenris didn't notice. He had already turned back to Hawke, but it was a week before she finally woke up.

* * *

><p>Fenris woke with a start when he felt something lightly brush against his hair. He sat up, at the same time reaching up to his scalp to grab whatever it was that had been touching his hair. He caught a slender wrist and small but equally slender fingers. He blinked and realized that Hawke was awake and gazing up at him with those startling blue eyes of hers. She smiled gently at his surprise, winding her fingers through his and bringing them to her lips. He realized that he had fallen asleep in the chair beside her bed with his head resting on her mattress; he reached up ruefully to rub his sorely protesting neck.<p>

"How long have you been awake?" he asked her, still feeling a little befuddled.

"Not very long," she replied with an airy shrug. Her voice was hoarse, as it had been last time he had spoken with her, but the pain had mostly faded from her expression. There was still perhaps the faintest ghost of it in her eyes, but she didn't seem too fazed by it. "You know you don't have to sleep in the chair," she added with weak amusement. "The bed's big enough for the both of us, even if all we do is sleep." He chuckled and obediently rose to his feet, moving around the bed and climbing in next to her. She pulled his arm around her shoulders and snuggled up against his chest, sighing wearily.

"How long was I out?"

"It took three days to get you back to Kirkwall, and after Bethany and the others... healed you, you slept for another week," he told her quietly, squeezing her gently. He was so glad to see her again, but he knew he had to be gentle. He didn't want to hurt her.

"I see," she said after a moment.

"Bethany came in to check on you every day, accompanied by Knight-Captain Cullen," Fenris hastened to inform her. He refrained from telling her, however, how forlorn Bethany had grown when Hawke did wake up right away. She seemed to sense this, though, for she sighed again and buried her face in his chest.

"I didn't mean to make anybody worry," she finally murmured, turning her cheek so he could hear her, "but I just didn't want to wake up. It was so scary in there... and I couldn't move at all... and it hurt so bad..." Her words drifted off, and he was startled to see genuine fear in her eyes. Not the artificial fear brought on by the hallucinations, but instead, something she was truly afraid of.

"Hey, it's okay. You're awake now," he assured her, gathering her closer to him. He knew that she had been under a lot of stress lately, and if he'd had to deal with Meredith and Orsino, he probably wouldn't want to wake up, either.

"I love you, Fenris," she said after a moment. Her exhaustion worked through her tone, but it didn't hide the warmth there. "You were the only reason I pulled through, you know. I almost let it take over me-" he didn't ask what 'it' was, he wasn't sure he wanted to know- "but then I thought of you, and I knew I had to come back."

"I love you too, Hawke," he told her, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Although I don't think I'll be able to have a good night's sleep ever again," she mused regretfully. She shook her head with a wry smile, as if to banish the thoughts. "Go to sleep, Fenris. I'll still be here when you wake up." His arms tightened around her as he drifted off again.


	21. Fated Return

_**A/N:**_

_**Guys. I am so sorry. I have no idea what happened to me, but my muse just kind of slipped out from under me. Very rudely, in fact. I deserve a very stern admonishment from all of you, if anyone is still reading this after my long break. xP.**_

_**I think I'm going to make more of an effort to go back and edit my previous stories. I think- I hope- my writing style has improved since the last one, but you guys will have to tell me. I am making a change or two otherwise: I'm changing the title again to one that may be slightly better, as well as updating the summary and possibly removing a few of the more pathetic stories. Otherwise, I have no guarantees as to when the next story will be posted (although it will probably be sooner if you guys review ;p).**_

_**As always, thanks for reading!**_

* * *

><p><em>One of the hardest lessons that we- we the Hawke family, we the readers of these stories, we the human race and all the other sentient beings on Thedas- have to learn is that the future is not set in stone. It changes, fluctuating with your decisions and the decisions of those around you. You can attempt to predict it, but there's always at least one variable that you have ignored or taken for granted, and that variable will cause something to change. It could be a big something or a little something, but either way, you can't have predicted that it would turn out exactly that way.<em>

_In hindsight, I know I could have prevented this. I was just so thoughtless, so optimistic. I forgot that Rathina can't protect me every time I take a misstep. She did the best she could do, but even she doesn't always have a timely arrival. She knows that, and that fact kills her inside; nonetheless, she agreed to add her own tag to the end of this tale._

_This is the story of how I learned the hard truth about fate._

_-Bethany_

* * *

><p><strong>Fated Return<strong>

Bethany awoke that fateful morning with no sense of foreboding whatsoever.

Instead, she was rather excited. They had received word the previous day that the Deep Roads expedition had been a success. Rathina, Varric, Fenris, and Anders were expected to return to Kirkwall soon. Bethany was optimistic that- supposing they weren't delayed- the party might even make it back that very day.

Sure, she had been upset at first that Rathina hadn't allowed her to come. Bethany had seen in her sister's eyes that the elder Hawke had intended to bring her along, at least until Leandra had intervened. Rathina's cheeks had been pale, her eyes brighter than usual, when she had informed Bethany that she had to stay; the mage wondered what it was exactly that their mother had said to have such a profound effect on her usually stolid sister.

Well, she had given her mother the silent treatment for an entire day after the expedition left, and she had discovered the hard way that maintaining a grudge is incredibly difficult. So, she gave up on her anger and allowed herself to see Leandra's point of view. _There are probably too many darkspawn down there for me anyway, _the younger Hawke sister consoled herself. Not to mention the fact that she disliked the dark, and stifling, enclosed spaces with Maker knew how many tons of stone over her head, and roughing it with only a blanket protecting her from the hard, rocky ground...

Yes, it was definitely better that she had stayed.

With that in mind, Bethany left her shared room and strode out into the miniscule, smelly living room. Poking her head through a nearby doorway into an even tinier room, she observed her mother making biscuits; the delicious scent wafted through Gamlen's apartment, although it did little to obscure the musky odor of alcohol and urine. Even the disgusting scent couldn't dampen Bethany's spirits; if the expedition was successful, then they could be moving into the Amell estate within a fortnight, and then they wouldn't have to put up with Gamlen's drinking and gambling habits.

"Good morning, Mother," Bethany greeted Leandra cheerfully, planting a kiss on her mother's cheek as she strode over to the small dining table and sat down on a three-legged stool.

"You're awfully chipper today," her mother teased, glancing over at her with twinkling almond eyes that were identical to Bethany's own.

"I'm just looking forward to Rathina's return," the mage replied with a shrug, still grinning. Leandra placed a chipped plate of biscuits on the table in front of her before returning to the kitchen, presumably to do the dishes.

"Aren't we all," she agreed, concern laced in her words.

"_Not_ all of us." Naturally, Gamlen chose that moment to make his appearance, and he offered Bethany a glower as he seated himself at the table across from her. "At least my house was less crowded with her and that blasted dog gone." With a huff, he snatched up a biscuit and began to gnaw on it in what he obviously imagined was a dignified manner.

"Well, luckily for you, we'll be moving out of here as soon as we can," Leandra answered rather coolly as Bethany barely managed to suppress an eyeroll.

"Mother, I'm going out," she stated, stuffing a biscuit into her mouth and grabbing a few more, rising to her feet as she did so.

"Be careful, dear," Leandra replied absently from her position in the kitchen.

"Don't hurry back," Gamlen grumbled. Bethany didn't bother answering; she merely picked up her magic staff and strode out the front door.

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Bethany." The exotic, lilting accent framed his words perfectly, and a small smile touched her lips at the sound of that handsome voice. Sebastian was greeting her at the door of the Chantry, as he had been doing for the past few days. His sky blue eyes, gentler and more patient than Rathina's electric ones, watched her with a benign air. She loved visiting the Chantry, despite the obvious irony of it. There was comfort and solace within its walls, and she felt safe in a way she hadn't since she had discovered she was a mage. She wouldn't realize until later that walking into the Chantry that morning had been one of the biggest mistakes of her life.<p>

"Hello, Sebastian," she answered cheerfully. "Have you heard the news? Rathina and the others are supposed to return soon." Rathina wasn't particularly close to Sebastian- sure, she had worked on one or two jobs with him, but she disliked going near the Chantry. Bethany, on the other hand, had made friends with the former prince; the air of tranquility around him had a rather calming effect on her.

"That's excellent," he said, his blue eyes twinkling, as he led her down the center aisle deeper into the Chantry. "It seems the Maker has indeed blessed their journey." Just a few days ago, Bethany had been a nervous wreck; she'd been almost positive that Rathina and her entourage had gotten trapped or killed in the ancient thaig, which was what had caused her to seek out the Chantry in the first place. Sebastian had recognized her and appointed himself as something of her guide while she was there.

"It would appear that way." They knelt side-by-side in front of the statue of Andraste. Sebastian chanted under his breath while Bethany remained silent, choosing to simply enjoy the rhythmic sound of his low voice. After a while, even he fell silent. She closed her eyes, her mind drifting peacefully and then settling like a still pond.

She wasn't sure how long they had been kneeling there for when she felt a prickling feeling at the back of her neck, as if someone was watching her. She lifted her head, glancing around, and her gaze fell on a blonde Sister who stood at the edges of the room, cloaked in shadows. The Sister's hair was cropped short, and even from this distance, Bethany could recognize her sharp features. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but Bethany couldn't place her exactly; she had met many people in the last year.

"Who's that?" she whispered to Sebastian, who discreetly lifted his sky blue eyes to see follow Bethany's line of sight. She caught the way his features tightened but smoothed almost instantly as he attempted to hide his disturbance.

"That's Sister Petrice," he informed her, just as quietly.

"Ah." Bethany could remember her now. Rathina had been hired to transport a Qunari through the sewers by this woman. She didn't understand exactly why, but the Qunari had ended up committing suicide when they left the sewers. Rathina had been very unhappy with Petrice after that.

She rose to her feet, skillfully diverting a grimace when her feet tingled with the rush of blood. Her muscles felt rather cramped; without even thinking about it, she flicked her fingers and felt cool bliss when her healing magic folded around her protesting muscles, soothing them. When she turned back to face Sebastian, who had also risen, she noticed that the Sister was gone. _Oh well. It must have been a coincidence. _It wasn't.

"Thanks for keeping me company," she told Sebastian, offering a small smile.

"Anytime," he answered with a gentle smile in response. "Send Hawke my greetings and congratulations when she returns." Bethany accepted this with a nod. Eyes twinkling, she reached out and grasped Sebastian's hand, squeezing it once before she turned and strode out of the Chantry.

* * *

><p>Bethany took her time on her return trip. She strolled through Hightown, enjoying the sights as she often did and occasionally pausing to speak with one of Rathina's acquaintances. Feeling especially genial, she paused at the market to buy a fresh, warm loaf of bread before she started the walk back to Lowtown. It wasn't long before she was back at Gamlen's rundown apartment. Without hesitating before flinging the door open, she began, "Mother, I brought-" A sharp intake of breath cut across her words. Whether it was her gasp or her mother's, she wasn't sure. The loaf of bread hit the floor.<p>

"Miss Hawke, we need you to come with us." The fact that she recognized this voice, too, was little comfort to her at that moment.

"Knight-Captain," she breathed upon finding herself face-to-face with none other than Knight-Captain Cullen, flanked by several other templars. The other templars she didn't recognize, for they wore helmets; Cullen's metal helm was missing. His expression was grim as death. She could only stare at him in disbelief; she had lasted so long here, why was this happening _now?_ For she had no doubts as to what was going on. A quiet sob broke into her reverie, and she glanced to the back corner of the room. Her mother was standing there, shoulders hunched, gazing at her with horror and the same disbelief.

"But... Mother..." Bethany's voice broke, and she stared miserably at Leandra before turning back to Cullen, whose expression didn't change.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hawke, but we have to take you away." There was a slight flicker of _something_ in his handsome golden eyes, though- was that sympathy? She tasted something bitter at the back of her mouth, and she shook her head, her vision blurring. Something touched her shoulder, and she flinched.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled, suddenly fearful, and she shrank away from the templar who had approached her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Cullen gesture at the man to back off, but she didn't pay any attention to that. She turned back to the Knight-Captain, her eyes wide. "You can't do this!"

"I'm sorry, Bethany, but we must," he told her gently. He took a step closer, looking her in the eye. "You must understand..."

"I can't! It's not fair!" She felt like a child throwing a temper tantrum, but she wasn't sure what else she could do. She backed toward the door, but suddenly one of the templars was blocking her exit. She felt something within her snap, and her hands began to glow threateningly.

"Bethany? Mother? What's going on, I heard..." Bethany whirled around to see her sister standing in the doorway. Matted black hair framed a pale face streaked with dirt; blazing blue eyes stood out more than ever against her pale features. Concern changed to confusion, to shock, to a slow, dawning horror. "...shouting," Rathina finished quietly. Bethany had never seen her sister look meek or frightened before, but at that moment, Rathina's expression exhibited both. Her mouth was open in a small, round 'o' of shock, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. Suddenly Rathina moved toward her with the swiftness of a viper, but just as quickly, the templars stepped into formation around Bethany, forming a square with the mage in the middle. Cullen now towered over the elder Hawke sibling, and the two gazed at each other meaningfully. Rathina had regained her composure, and her gaze blazed once more with righteous fury and stubborn insistence. She opened her mouth to speak, but Bethany couldn't her hear over their mother's fretful sobbing and the cotton that seemed to be blocking her ears. The mage watched dumbly as Cullen responded and then shifted so Rathina could look at her.

* * *

><p>"You can't do this," Hawke hissed up at Cullen, her jaw taut with anger. "You promised me you wouldn't say anything!" She couldn't <em>believe<em> that this was happening. She and Bethany had been living in Kirkwall for over a year and nobody had said anything to the templars before, and when he had seen Bethany in action, she had exacted a promise out of Cullen that he wouldn't be the one to let the cat out of the bag. Perhaps those precautions were for naught, though. It was unfair- just when their life was about to change, when status would have protected Bethany, the templars came barging in. She had to stifle a dry, bitter laugh at the irony of it all.

"I didn't," he answered calmly. He appeared nonchalant, but Hawke noted a similar blaze of anger in his eyes. Whether the anger was directed at herself or at Knight-Commander Meredith, she couldn't guess. "I don't know who tipped off the Knight-Commander, but I have been given direct orders to take your sister into custody." She lifted herself onto her tiptoes and peered around him at her sister; he obligingly took a small step sideways so they could see each other. Her shoulders sagged at the pitiful sight of her sister, who appeared to be in shock. She would never be able to get this image out of her mind.

"Don't fight them, okay, Bethany?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry." Bethany only stared back, and Hawke lost sight of her when Cullen moved back into position. She straightened, tilting her head back to gaze up into his eyes.

"Take care of her, please," she whispered plaintively. He met her gaze and nodded once; the nod was so tiny, it was nearly imperceptible, but it was there. She obediently stepped out of the way as the templars began to move. She crouched beside her mother, who had crumpled to the ground, sobbing with the deep pain of one who had lost too much. She wrapped her arms around her mother, holding her close and watching silently as the templars led her younger sister away.


	22. Reconciliation

_**A/N: A great big shoutout to EkoCentric for her review via PM! :D**_

_**Anyway, here's the next chapter. I originally intended this to focus more on the actual wedding, but the end result was much different from what I pictured when I was starting out. That's why this one took a little while to write, but I'm just glad I got this one out quicker than the last one. At any rate, happy reading!**_

* * *

><p><em>Aveline's wedding was a really big day for me.<em>

_Honestly, I can remember next to nothing of the wedding itself._

_I don't want you to think I'm some sort of god or something, like Varric might convince you to think. I've already given you a few examples of my weakest moments, but those are nothing compared to this period in my life. I was miserable: upset by Fenris rejecting me, half-dead from the Qunari attack, mourning from Mother's death, and just overall surly and pathetic. I won't give you the boring, painful details of that particular length of time, but I'll tell you how it all changed._

_This took place in autumn, sometime after the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall._

_-Hawke_

* * *

><p><strong>Reconciliation<strong>

Hawke entered the Chantry on Sebastian's arm. Her trusty white cane, her now-constant companion, was in her right hand; her left arm was threaded through Sebastian's right. She leaned on him surreptitiously, grateful for the help. Her mass of black hair- which had grown out since the fight with the Qunari- had been arranged into long, beautiful, thick curls. The bottom layers tumbled over her shoulder like a curly, black waterfall; the top layers were drawn into a sort of messy bun above her neck.

The gown Orana had helped her choose was much too elaborate for Hawke's taste, but there was little she could do about it. The dress itself was a mixture of gold, blue, and cream, which brought out the colors of her already vivid icy blue eyes. It brushed against the ground by her feet as she moved, and the sleeves ended at her wrists. Tiny gold beads threaded the neckline as well as the ends of her sleeves, and circular, golden patterns swirled around over the creamy color of the entire dress. Blue fabric, once again embedded with gold beads, could be found circling her biceps and acting as light shoulder pads. It also circled her waist like a belt, separating the bodice from the skirt. The bodice hugged her form, but the skirt bloomed out from her waistline, thankfully hiding the dagger strapped to her calf... and the twisted, mangled mass of muscle that was her hip.

As planned, Merrill approached them when they stopped in the doorway. Dressed in a pretty pale green dress, the elf wore a large grin, but she managed to maintain her composure; she took Hawke's cane and leaned it against the wall, in a shadowy corner where it was hard to find, before returning to the rogue's side. Sebastian expertly guided Hawke through the throng of people gathered for the wedding, with Merrill acting as an undercover bodyguard. Since she wasn't at the top of her game, as it were, all the others had agreed that she wasn't to be left alone, especially now. As Champion, she was now an important figurehead within the city, and since she was weak and in public for the first time in a long time, it wouldn't be a bad time for an attempted assassination. If she were caught alone... well. She was about as helpless as Ser Pounce-a-lot.

Unfortunately, even with Sebastian's help, it was impossible to avoid the grateful well-wishers among the crowd. Every few feet, some noble or other would step right in Hawke's way, forcing her to a painful halt, and declare that they were glad she had saved their lives from the scary Arishok and congratulations on her new title and would she like to come over for dinner sometime?

More than ever, she wished Fenris was at her side to scare off the annoying nobles, or at least Isabela and her disconcertingly flirtatious ways. As it happened, they were both otherwise occupied.

By the time Sebastian finally helped her into her seat, her cheeks hurt from smiling and her stomach ached with disgust for the puffy, conceited nobles.

"I hope there's a trashcan nearby. I think I might barf," she remarked dryly to Sebastian. Naturally, Merrill overheard and misinterpreted.

"Oh, no! Should I fetch Anders?" she demanded worriedly, wringing her pixie-like hands. Hawke snickered, and Sebastian only shook his head, although she could've sworn she caught a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Don't worry about it, dear. I was just being metaphorical," Hawke assured her, patting the elf girl's hand.

"Ohhh." Merrill relaxed instantly, and Hawke hid another smile.

"Hawke, I'm going to assist the Grand Cleric in her preparations. Fenris should be joining you soon, and Anders and Varric are around somewhere if you get into trouble," Sebastian told her, his sky blue eyes reflective and concerned.

"I'll be fine," she replied, flapping her hand in her usual blasé manner to disguise the way her stomach leaped at the elf's name. "You go ahead. I can't really go anywhere, anyway." She watched as the archer strode away before sighing and straightening. Her hip ached from just the short walk from her manor to the Chantry, but there was little she could do for it. Damn those Qunari.

* * *

><p><em>The fight with the Arishok wasn't going well at all. Already exhausted from fighting her way through Kirkwall, Hawke could feel her strength flagging, despite the healing and stamina potions she had taken upon entering the chamber. Fenris had suggested a duel, and how could she refuse? She didn't want anyone else to be hurt. When Anders had expressed doubt, Fenris had again spoken on her behalf.<em>

"_Hawke will be our champion in this fight. With so many lives at stake, she will succeed." His words, while pragmatic and realistic, were comforting, and his simple trust propelled her forward now._

_She raced away from the towering kossith, sliding into place behind a column. His heavy footsteps rang through the room and betrayed his position as he ran toward her. Gritting her teeth, she waited until he had drawn close enough before she turned and sprinted past him to a column on the other side of the room. The Qunari roared angrily, skidding to an ungraceful halt and then turning to start for her again. This went on for a while; Hawke, dripping with sweat from the effort, had long since lost track of time. The nobles and even her companions at the edges of the room were shifting with obvious concern and uncertainty, and even scorn on the parts of some of the nobles. She forced herself to forget about them, the people she was fighting for; instead, she focused on her own sense of self-preservation. Finally, when she made to run across the room once more, her foot hit a puddle of blood (leftover from the previous battle) and she slipped. The Arishok, having evidently heard the 'smack' of her body hitting the floor, roared with triumph and turned back to face her. When she attempted to struggle to her feet, he brought his own foot down hard on her hip. She could _hear _the bones shatter, and the loud cracks and pops could be heard around the rest of the room. A cry slipped past her lips, but, glowering defiantly at the Arishok, she slammed her jaw shut against any more sound. He leaned over her, his expression oddly soft and almost regretful._

"_I am sorry, Hawke. I will kill you now, so you will not have to endure the eternal humiliation of being a cripple."_

_He lifted his sword, its point aimed right at her heart. Now she began to despair; still pinned down by his foot, she couldn't move. Her dagger lay only a few feet away, just out of reach. Her friends, bound by honor and horror, stood at the far end of the room. Except for one- no, two of them. The edge of her sight glowed blue. A brown blur erupted at the other corner of her vision._

_Fang hurled himself at the Arishok. The Mabari, an efficient and well-trained jumper, clasped his jaws around the Qunari's forearm. The Qunari roared angrily and stumbled backward._

_Hawke took this opportunity to lunge for her dagger. Crying out with rage and pain, she leaped at the Arishok, driving her dagger right into his eye. He shouted again and fell backward, Hawke clutching the front of his armor. When he hit the ground, she almost surgically removed her dagger and planted it into his other eye._

_She was glad she couldn't see the light of consciousness fade from his gaze. If he uttered any words with his last breath, she didn't hear them._

_Taking a deep breath, she sidled off the dead Qunari and hit the ground ungracefully. Allowing only a low hiss as pain erupted in her hip, she placed her left foot flat on the ground and attempted to shove herself up on one leg. She felt a furry warmth under her right hand, and she gratefully threaded her fingers through Fang's fur as another arm wrapped itself around her torso and hauled her up. Without releasing the Mabari, she leaned into the elf at her side, hopping around to face the remaining Qunari._

"_Right, then. You guys can go." Without speaking, they filed out of the throne room. Feeling oddly detached, she watched them leave. She heard a faint rushing sound in her ears, and her vision began to blur. She glanced toward Fenris, offering a small, watery smile. His expression was pinched with concern, his brows drawn together and his leafy green eyes narrowed. He didn't return her smile._

_"I did it. Just like you said," she told him before she collapsed into his arms._

* * *

><p>Hawke shuddered at this memory. The pain had been overwhelming; to this day, she had no idea how she had managed to remain so composed. Shock, she assumed. Later, Anders had informed her that she had been very close to death, and then suggested cryptically that she not try something like this again. The mage had remained with her every day of her recovery, to her dismay. Luckily, she was never left alone with him; Varric and Merrill would sit with them as well, and once she had even awoken to see Bethany at her bedside, having been sent from the Circle to check on the new Champion's healing. Aveline visited a few times, but the guard was busy with returning order to the city and planning her own wedding, which Hawke was currently attending. Noticeably absent from her weeks of recovery were Fenris and Isabela, the latter of which she hadn't seen since the battle and the former since she had first woken after her injury. Even then, Fenris hadn't spoken to her. However, according to Sebastian, she was supposed to see him again that day. She wasn't sure how she felt about this; excitement and apprehension both mingled within her. It hadn't been easy, being with him after... after, well, <em>being <em>with him, but they had come to a silent agreement. They didn't speak about their night together. It hurt worse than the pain in her hip, but she could forget about it when he was nearby.

And, since he hadn't been around her recently, she had spent the past few weeks agonizing over it. Wondering what had gone wrong, what she could have done differently, what he had been thinking. She would ask the others about him, but she would only receive vague answers: "He's around" or "He's busy" or maybe "I saw him at the Hanged Man, he asked about you". Feverish with pain as she had been, it hadn't occurred to her to send him a letter.

"Hawke, how are you feeling?" A masculine voice- not the one that she'd been hoping (and dreading) to hear- broke her out of her reverie. She mustered up a beaming smile; judging by Anders' expression, it was very off.

"Why, positively amazing, thank you for asking," she informed him brightly. "I mean, I feel like I'm back to normal already! That long walk across Hightown was very invigorating!"

"Wow, what a miracle!" Merrill exclaimed, grinning jubilantly. Her radiant expression faded at the look Anders and Hawke both shot her.

"Well, you're clearly back in your usual mental state, at least," Anders remarked dryly. He reached into the pouch at his belt (even in nice robes, he wore that ugly leather thing) and proffered a vial full of a pale red potion. "This should help temporarily with the pain." She accepted it and eyed it distastefully for a moment before remembering her manners.

"Thanks," she responded grudgingly, lifting it to her lips and downing it in one swallow. She grimaced and shivered. "Ugh, now I really do feel like I'll throw up."

"Vomiting is a common side effect of these potions," Anders informed her seriously. She rolled her eyes.

"Go away, Anders. Aren't you supposed to be, like, standing over there and watching everybody suspicious?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were doing well," he told her, drawing himself up rather haughtily.

"Thanks, Anders. I appreciate it. Really, I do. I just want to be alone." _Except not really._ Her gaze flickered around, searching for _him._

"No, you don't," Anders replied, his tone surprisingly bitter. Startled, she lifted her head to examine his expression, but he had already begun to walk away. She just shook her head. It was rather odd; over the years, Anders just seemed to be growing more satirical and mocking, as if Justice was corrupting him and not the other way around. She shook her head, grimacing at these gloomy thoughts. Soon she would have to face them, but today was supposed to be a happy occasion. Screw Anders and his drama.

"What's wrong with Anders?" Merrill wondered, blunt as always.

"Dunno. Guess something put those skirts of his into a twist." While Merrill craned around to see what was wrong with his robes, Hawke felt another presence at her side, and she glanced up in time to see Fenris fold his long frame into the pew next to her. She met and held his steady green gaze, and for the first time in weeks she felt a real smile dawn on her features. His expression barely changed, but it did seem to soften slightly. "Merrill," she said, without breaking their shared look, "you can go mingle or something. Fenris is here now." She did turn then, albeit reluctantly, to see that the elf girl followed her request.

"What- ohh," Merrill realized, watching the pair. She gave the rogue a knowing smile and rose to her feet. "I understand, Hawke. You just want to have a private conversation with him." Because this much had been obvious to the other parties involved, Hawke couldn't find it within herself to be mad at the petite elf, so she gave Merrill a secretive wink.

"You called it, Merrill. Now, if you could-?" She tilted her head meaningfully toward the gathering of people in the middle of the Chantry.

"W- oh, yes, of course! See you, Hawke!" Merrill turned and pranced away. Hawke hid a snicker as she turned to face Fenris, moving more carefully than usual so as to avoid jarring her hip.

"I envy you the company you keep," he remarked with dry sarcasm, watching the mage stride away. A hint of distaste colored his expression.

"Come on, you have to admit it's entertaining, at least," she pointed out cheerfully, skillfully masking the way her heart skipped a beat at his deep, sensual baritone. It had been too long since she'd last heard it. He only offered a shrug before descending into silence. She searched for something to say before it got awkward, but he beat her to the punch.

"You look like a mess." In his own way, Fenris, too, was very blunt, but whereas Merrill's bluntness was born from innocence, his was pure pragmatism. He didn't believe in beating around the bush, something that the rogue appreciated very much. Unfortunately for him, she enjoyed playing with words.

"You don't say! And I worked so hard to look nice today. Pity. I'll have to tell Orana that we need to do a better job next time," she sighed, her words lighthearted and airy to disguise the stab of pain in her chest. She caught his gaze and lifted her brows suggestively as she lifted her hand, running it slowly through her thick mass of curls. A few of them sprang out of place and landed in her field of view. His own eyes followed the movement, and she thought she caught in odd glint in them before he spoke again.

"I don't mean _this_," he said quietly, reaching forward and, as if without thinking, brushing the stray locks out of her face. "I mean the fact that you can't walk without help because of your damaged hip." Again, as if without thinking, he gently touched the affected area with the tip of a long pointer finger. She shut her eyes briefly, at the same time wanting him to both continue and to draw away. "And you look exhausted." Now he lifted his hand, laying his palm against her cheek and brushing with his thumb the circles underneath her eyes. _So he's going to play _this _game._ For some reason, his casual touches were more painful than the silence she had been forced to endure during her recovery. It was rather odd; she enjoyed the feel of his hand, but she also resented it fiercely. Her mouth opened and furious words, borne of hurt and pain, spilled out.

"You're one to talk," she remarked acidly, drawing away. Her heart twinged at the flash of hurt in his jade green eyes, but she willed herself to ignore it and continue. Her words grew more heated as she spoke. "Coming here and feeling me up like nothing in the last few months happened, like you haven't been ignoring me for weeks when I needed you most. Like we aren't here at our best friend's wedding. _Dammit, _Fenris, I don't know what your fucking problem is!" She was on a roll now. Her blue eyes were wide with fury, her cheeks flushing red. "You were probably hanging out over there, holed up _voluntarily_ in your mansion, moping about the life you don't have and the life you couldn't have and the life you could, if you bothered to try! You force yourself to leave me alone out of some misguided notion that maybe it will keep me safer, but _you are wrong!_ Every morning I wake up with Anders or Varric or Merrill by my bedside when _you _should be the one there, and every day it hurts _so bad_ because the man I love more than anything is ignoring me. But then, when you _are_ here, it hurts almost as badly because you refuse to let me love you." Her tone changed, became pleading. "Tell me what I should feel, Fenris. This little dance we're doing is agonizing, it's killing me, and I'm sick and tired of it. I love you; it's too late to go back on that now. So tell me: do you love me, or is all of this for nothing?" He remained silent throughout her tirade, but she could sense the raw emotion gnawing at his insides. His eyes had hardened in that characteristic, emotionless facade of a slave, which let her know that he was reacting strongly to her words; whether it was pain or anger he was feeling, she wasn't sure, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it was the former rather than the latter. His eyes widened in plain shock at her blunt admission of her feelings for him, but once again, the mask slipped back over his features. She immediately felt awful for her declaration, which had been unexpected to them both. Her own blue eyes mirrored his surprise, which was followed instantly by chagrin.

He eyed her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he began to rise to his feet. She flinched as if he had hit her; she extended a hand, intending to stop him. Her outstretched fingers were mere inches from his wrist when she hesitated and lowered them slowly. This was enough to catch his attention, however, for he turned to face her, lifting his oddly dark brows.

"Fenris, I'm sorry. That was rather uncalled for," she told him quietly, ducking her head and looking up at him from underneath her lashes. "But... please, don't leave now." Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard. She waited anxiously for his answer. He hesitated before sinking back into the pew beside her.

"I suppose we shall discuss this later, then," he said quietly, just as the rest of the people gathered began to file into their seats at some unseen command. Hawke shifted closer to Fenris, making more room for the others to join them.

Varric seated himself beside her and shot her a cocky smirk and then offered Fenris an oddly expressionless nod of greeting. Hawke could do no more than glance curiously at the dwarf before someone out of her field of view began playing traditional-sounding music on an organ. She bit her lip, steeling herself for pain, and then she twisted around in her seat to see Guardsman Donnic striding slowly up the center aisle formed by the rows of pews. He was looking handsome enough in his suit, Hawke supposed, but he really wasn't her type. She snuck a sideways glance at the man who _was_ most definitely her type; as if sensing her gaze, Fenris dropped his emerald eyes to meet hers. His lips quirked upward into a rare, charming smile, and her heart faltered as she offered her own, unusually tentative one in response. She glanced back toward the aisle as a few more people, presumably Donnic's family, walked up it. Finally came Aveline. Hawke knew that her friend would prefer to wear armor to her own wedding, but she wore a fairly modest, long, white dress, which Hawke herself had helped pick out. The dress was cut in a way that emphasized some of the guard's curves without revealing too much, yet it still looked graceful and beautiful on Aveline's muscular figure.

When the redhead passed their pew, she glanced sideways at Hawke and the rest of their party. Hawke offered Aveline an encouraging smile and a subtle but enthusiastic nod. Aveline smiled slightly in return, although hers didn't seem to last too long. The skin around her eyes was tight with obvious nerves, but Hawke envied Aveline her otherwise stolid demeanor. The rogue sighed quietly, her gaze flickering to Fenris once more. As a child, she had dreamed- as all young girls do- of marrying a kind, gentle prince. It was a dream that had changed much over the years, but the basic premise was the same: fall in love, get married, maybe even have kids. It seemed simple, but in her youth Hawke had been unable to imagine how complicated life could get. She had to bite back a dry chuckle now.

She forced herself to abandon her musings and listen to Donnic and Aveline's vows, which were overseen by none other than the Grand Cleric herself. It was really a beautiful ceremony. Hawke would later admit to remembering next to nothing about it.

* * *

><p>"Are you crying, dwarf?" she teased Varric afterward when she spotted his hand going to his face. The rest of the crowd was rising to their feet and beginning to exit the Chantry. Hawke herself, unwilling to fight through the crowd, decided to wait for a few minutes.<p>

"No... there's just something in my eye," he insisted, scrubbing at his eye.

"Varric, you and I both know that that's the cheapest excuse in the book," she told him cheerfully.

"I got stabbed in the eye by my brother when I was a little boy, and it never stopped hurting. Yet, somehow, it healed miraculously so I can still see out of it," Varric amended his story with a grin.

"Really? Ouch!" Merrill exclaimed sympathetically. Human and dwarf exchanged amused glances behind the elven mage's back. Merrill turned to Varric for an explanation, leaving Hawke and Fenris to sit next to each other in silence. The lean elf, brow furrowed, appeared to be contemplating the statue of Andraste.

"She is quite beautiful, isn't she?" she remarked, leaning against him and tilting her head back to peer at the statue. She acted as if her previous outburst hadn't happened, and he seemed to be humoring her for the moment.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you are, Hawke," he told her quietly. Her cheek, pressed against his shoulder, rose into a smirk before she lifted her head up. She could feel her companions on the other side of the pew standing, and she decided it was time for her to get moving, too. She didn't want to miss the reception.

"Help me up?" she inquired plaintively, looking up at him with her bright blue eyes. He rose to his feet with an easy grace that Hawke envied; she'd had it before, less than six months ago, but her dealings with the Arishok left her broken and battered.

He extended his hand- bare, as he'd left his armor at home- and she accepted it, like a noble accepting her lover's help. However, she relied on his support much more than any lazy noble would. He let go of her hand once she was standing and balanced. He then proceeded to offer her his arm, as Sebastian had done before the wedding. She slipped her arm gratefully through his and tried to look like she wasn't leaning heavily on him as he led her through the Chantry. The rest of the crowd had drawn ahead of them, even the rest of her little flock. She guessed they had decided to leave her alone with Fenris, something that she wasn't ungrateful for.

"Sorry about having to drag you down like this," she said after several moments of silence as he began to help her down the stairs in front of the Chantry. Darkness had fallen during the wedding ceremony. The rest of the guests seemed to have disappeared into the night, undoubtedly making their way to the after-party.

"Don't apologize. I owe you much more than this." His words were low and somewhat hoarse. She contemplated this quietly for the span of several heartbeats before she spoke up again.

"Fenris..." She glanced sideways at him, her brows drawing together with mild concern. She descended the final step and stopped, tilting her head back to look up at him. Nearby was a post with a lantern connected to it, lighting up a small patch of ground. She could see the gentle flame of the lantern reflected in his steely emerald gaze. "You don't blame yourself for what happened, do you?"

His silence was her answer.

She swore quietly and began to draw away, then paused, realizing she'd forgotten something.

"Shit," she hissed, turning back to look up at the Chantry with a scowl on her features.

"What?" he asked, his dark brows furrowing as he eyed her anxiously. "What's wrong?"

"I left my cane in there," she replied, scowling. "I guess I can ask Sebastian to grab it for me tomorrow, but I really can't walk without it..."

"I'll get it," he said without missing a beat. He was halfway up the steps before she had the time to say "okay".

Hawke sighed quietly. The darkness seemed to muffle everything around her, dulling all her senses except the pain in her hip, which was as sharp as ever. She eyed the lamppost nearby, considering the best way to reach it; she couldn't stand on her own for long. She leaned heavily on her uninjured leg, but it was difficult keeping her balance. Her features twisted into a pained grimace as she limped ungracefully over to the pole. It was with relief that she wrapped her arm around it, clutching it tightly. She shifted, leaning her back against it so she was facing the courtyard in front of the Chantry.

"Serah Hawke." Her name was a sneer in a cold, nasally, masculine voice, and she shivered inadvertently.

"Technically, the title is 'Champion'," she corrected, her tone cool and nonchalant. She didn't have cause to fear- yet. The shadows in front of her shifted, and she caught the silhouette of several people.

"My mistake," the voice replied in a mocking tone. Her antagonizer, accompanied by no fewer than half a dozen men, stepped into the gleam of the lantern above her head. She didn't recognize these men, but their clothes were rather tattered; she guessed they were simply garden-variety thugs. Not assassins, perhaps, but nearly as dangerous.

"Yes, it was," Hawke agreed with no trace of regret. "Now, I suggest you turn around and go on your merry little way and I'll go on mine, agreed?" Her words were her first mistake. Her second was lifting a few silver pieces out of her coin pouch and showing them to him when the man didn't move. When the man who had spoken stepped forward, wearing a sneaky, possessive grin, she only then realized that it wasn't her coin he wanted. Her words had revealed that she didn't want to fight; her actions, when she didn't try to move away, revealed that she couldn't fight. Her skin prickled as she silently cursed her naïveté.

"Or you could have the whole thing," she persisted, offering her entire coin pouch in a last-ditch attempt to get the men to leave. At the same time, she reached down with her other hand to the knife that was strapped to her calf...

"I don't _think_ so." Moving swiftly, the man knocked the coin purse out of one hand and grabbed her other wrist. He stepped forward, holding both of her wrists and pinning her against the pole. She could smell the stale whiskey on his breath. Her heart rate picked up, and fear such as she hadn't felt in a long time sped through her body. She opened her mouth to scream, to shout for Fenris, but the man wouldn't have it; he let go with one hand and clapped it to her mouth, slamming his body against hers and using his weight to keep her there. Tears sprung to her eyes when the movement jarred her hip.

"There, now. Just stay still and do I tell you, and this will be over quickly. Well, once the rest of my men have had their turn," he added with a shout of laughter. He leaned closer, one hand going to caress her waist, and he began to peel his fingers away from her mouth. Hopelessness engulfed her then; she couldn't do anything, weak and injured as she was. This man had the upper hand, and even if she could break away from his grasp, there were still others who would grab her, do unspeakable things to her. This man, who she could have killed in less than a second only months ago, was going to torture her in the worst way possible, and she couldn't do a thing to stop him. She was utterly powerless. She sagged in his grip, uttering a choked sob as he ripped his hand away and lurched forward.

Suddenly, there was a blue glow behind the man and then it was _within _the man. Fenris stood there, his lips drawn back into a snarl; she had never seen such dark fury, such _hatred_ within her elf's expression as he yanked the man away from her and tossed him onto the ground some yards away. She collapsed to her hands and knees, trembling. Her chest heaved as she took great gulps of air, trying to remain calm; her head whirled, the fear and relief combining to make her dizzy. She could hear, as if from far away, the faint sounds of Fenris dispatching the rest of the thugs, but she didn't watch. This only took a few seconds; Fenris was at her side a the moment the final sounds of battle dissipated into the cool night air.

"Hawke..."

She didn't realize she was sobbing until his bare, bloody thumb brushed the tears away, and even then, the tears didn't stop. She felt him sit next to her, and he drew her into his lap. Shuddering, she buried her face into his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, and she leaned into his comforting embrace. Neither of them spoke until she was finally able to get a hold of herself and force the tears to stop falling. At that point, she drew away, but only enough to free up her own hand. She brushed it against her cheek. It came away bloody; he had accidentally smeared blood on her features when he had touched her. She sighed quietly, feeling at the same time drained and dizzy. It was then that he broke the silence.

"Did he touch you?" His words were surprisingly tender and full of touching concern, yet there was an undertone of seething fury that would have made the bravest man quail in fear, were it directed at him.

"He didn't make it past my waist," she assured him with a hint of her usual vaguely amused nonchalance, but the tremor in her words betrayed her. She leaned into him again, pressing her cheek against his chest and gazing at the ground so he couldn't see her expression. "I was so scared," she confessed. Rarely did she speak with such raw truth; it made her feel vulnerable, but somehow it was also comforting. "If you hadn't shown up when you did..." His arms tightened around her, and she knew he was imagining the same thing she was. They lapsed into silence again.

"We should get going," he said at last. "I need to get you home."

"Hopefully Aveline will forgive me for missing her reception," she agreed with an unsteady chuckle. They still didn't move. She felt as if she were half-asleep, and her head still spun. Her heart refused to slow down, and her breathing was quick and shallow. A breeze rustled through the street. She shivered unconsciously.

"It's really cold out here," she mumbled. Fenris was on his feet almost instantly; her hands, draped around his neck, tightened with surprise, but he was carrying her, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. She couldn't find it within her to complain, even when he paused to kick something out of their path- probably a body. The gentle swaying motions of his sure, confident step lulled her into a half-doze. She broke out of her reverie when he spoke in his low, growly voice.

"Give me your key."

She reached into another pouch that hung at her belt and withdrew the key to her mansion. She handed it to him and watched as he inserted it into the lock. He nudged it open with his shoulder and used his bare foot to shut it behind them, moving easily as if he held nothing heavier than a basket of laundry. Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana were nowhere to be found upon entering the estate. Fang, however, lay dozing in front of the fireplace, which contained only a few dying embers.

Fenris carried her past the dog and the fireplace and up the stairs. She shifted to allow him free use of his hand so he could open the door to her room. Orana had left a small fire in the fireplace in this room, but it was dying quickly; Fenris set Hawke down on her bed and turned to drop a few more logs on top of the current fire. She watched him silently, her expression oddly pensive.

"You've got blood on your hands," she told him quietly, breaking the still silence.

"Excuse me?" He glanced back at her, lifting a dark brow. The firelight was caught and reflected by his pale hair, so it seemed to glow like a halo. A half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips at his bemused expression.

"I meant it literally," she replied, gesturing.

"Oh." Even in the dim room, she could see his ears turn pink as he glanced down at his hands. She watched him for another moment before rising to her feet- well, more specifically, her foot- and wrapping her hand around one of the bed posts. He rose to help her, but she flapped her hand at him in a silent gesture that meant 'stay there'. She limped over to the wash basin in the corner of her room and lifted a wet rag out of the lukewarm water. She rung out the excess drops and shuffled back over to Fenris, maneuvering herself into the armchair in her room. With her good leg, she nudged the footstool over to him, and he obediently sat down. She reached for one of his hands and began to wash it gently with the rag. Her movements were slow, precise, and loving, every stroke of the rag filled with infinite gentleness. Every so often, she would glance up at him before brushing her fingers along his hand, his palm, his fingers, just enjoying the feel of him. She was encouraged when he didn't protest.

"You know," she mused, reaching for his other hand, "you never answered my question." She glanced up at him from under her dark lashes. He was watching her ministrations with a thoughtful air, and his expression was unusually soft. She longed to reach out and cup his face with her palm or run her hand through his hair or stroke his dark eyebrows, but she didn't want to ruin this tentative peace between them. His response to her words was a noncommittal grunt which, inexplicably, brought an amused smile to her lips. By then, she was finished washing the gore off his hand, but she didn't let go of it. The rag fell to the floor; she simply clasped his hand between both of hers, but loosely, so he could break her grip if he wanted to.

He didn't.

"Fenris, I..." she began, her voice cracking slightly. At her suddenly serious words, his pensive gaze lifted to her face. Now she was the one who chose to stare at their hands. She cleared her throat before speaking again. "Thank you for rescuing me back there. I was being stupid, I should have shouted or something when I saw them. I... I just forgot that I can't defend myself like I used to. It was... I've never frozen up like that. I just choked."

"I would never have forgiven myself if that man had laid another hand on you," Fenris growled. Now she lifted her gaze, watching him with her sapphire blue eyes. She finally did allow herself to extend a small, slender hand and cup his cheek with her palm. He didn't move, for which she was grateful. Their gazes met; hers was soft and openly loving, while his had an odd mixture of longing and sadness.

"It's not for nothing," he told her suddenly. She was so startled and confused that she actually pulled away.

"What?" she asked, her brows furrowing. He caught her hand as she began to pull it away and he held it, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"The answer to your question," he elaborated. "You asked me if your love was for nothing."

"Oh." She felt a blush heat up her cheeks and her neck. "I am sorry about shouting at you. It was just... I hadn't seen you in so long, and we haven't been on good terms lately anyway, but I... I wish we were... I can't stop thinking about that night, Fenris. Every day I remember it, and I wish we could spend more nights like that together. But I understand if you don't-" Suddenly his lips were on hers, silencing her nervous words. She exhaled softly, feeling her heart lift with hope that she hadn't felt in ages. The kiss was amazing; their lips and tongues danced together in a way that made her heart speed with joy and desire. Her hands tangled in his hair and his hands were on her neck and her back, pulling her closer. When she began to reach for the buttons at his suit, however, he caught her wrists gently and broke the kiss.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes rather wide as she leaned back. "That was rather presumptuous of me."

"It's okay," he soothed, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "But I think that would be a bad idea right now."

"It's okay, I understand," she replied quietly, gently tugging her wrists free and running her own hand through her hair to disguise her hurt.

"I don't think you do," he persisted. "It's not that I don't want to; but after what happened a little while ago, with that man..." She shuddered, and he rested a hand comfortingly on her knee. "I don't want to take advantage of you, not while you're in this state," he continued in a low voice. "And especially not while you're injured. I don't want to hurt you, Hawke."

"Fenris..." The plea slipped out, but she understood and recognized the truth behind his words. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before continuing. "Alright, just... don't leave me alone tonight. We don't have to... do anything, but I don't know if I could handle being by myself. And... don't go running off and ignoring me again. Please."

"I won't," he promised, rising to his feet. He bent over her, planting a simple yet loving kiss on the crown of her head before he slid his arms around her torso and helped her up.

That night, he shared her bed. She slept soundly for the first time in a long while, curled up against her elf's body. Nothing happened, yet everything changed that night. Hawke and Fenris grew close again, their relationship chaste yet somehow as intimate as any lovers'. Nothing sexual happened between them... until the night Danarius returned. But that story has already been told.


	23. The Miseries of the Wounded Coast

_**A/N:**_

**Hey guys! Thanks for your responses to the previous story, I'm glad you liked it :) Anyway, this one came more out of my hand than Hawke's, and it popped into my head when I was wandering around the Wounded Coast. Go figure, right? It's really short, but I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

><p>"...Hawke, this rock looks awfully familiar."<p>

"Shut up, Varric. I don't want to hear it."

"I could've sworn I've seen it before once or twice... or, you know, five or six times..."

"I said _shut up!_"

"He's right, though. Hawke, I think we're going in circles!"

A sigh, then: "You don't say, Merrill."

"We should try going up that path!"

"I guess we can give it a try."

*Half an hour and two groups of bandits later*

"Hawke..."

"Just don't. Please, just don't."

"Isn't that the rock Varric pointed out before?"

"No, of _course_ not, Merrill. How could it _possibly_ be the _same rock?_"

"Oh. Well, it looks _just like_ the one that we saw earlier..."

"Hey, look, Qunari! A whole bunch of them!" Running footsteps.

"Anders, you get back here right- dammit. I wish he would stop doing that."

"Hey, isn't that what we were trying to find in the first place?"

"Didn't I tell you to _shut up?_"


	24. Quick Update

So, wow, it's been over two years since I've updated this story? I'm really sorry guys. I guess life caught up to me.

However, I would like for you guys to know that in the near future, I will begin going through all the various shorts and editing them/cleaning them up. I think how it'll work is that I'll just mark this story as completed and I'll start a completely new compilation with the edited pieces, so if you're still interested in following along with Rathina and friends, try to keep an eye out for Champion Storyteller 2.0 :) Thanks everyone, to those of you who are still left, and I promise I'll wrap this all up at some point!


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